


Open Your Eyes And See

by SittingInACoffeeShop



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Blood, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Body Horror, Childhood Memories, Childhood Trauma, Deadlights (IT), Endgame Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Everyone Is Alive, Flashbacks, Graphic Description, Homophobia, Horror, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mental Anguish, Not Canon Compliant, Not Really Character Death, Pennywise is His Own Warning (IT), Permanent Injury, Promptober, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier in the Deadlights, Richie Tozier's Deadlights Vision, Sad Richie Tozier, TWs in the end notes, well except Georgie sorry bud
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:54:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26904700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SittingInACoffeeShop/pseuds/SittingInACoffeeShop
Summary: Eddie?Richie blinked hard, trying to pull himself even further back into the present. He could smell sewage, mildew, and blood. It was nauseating.“Rich, I think I got him!”Finally, Richie could focus on the figure above him. Even through his dirty, cracked glasses he could see it was Eddie. The Eddie he’d been hearing through the Deadlights...right? That’s where he just was, right?( Originally a one-shot from Promptober )
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 49
Kudos: 71





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is based off of a dream I had. I’ve always wanted to write stuff based on some of my dreams and now I’m finally doing it! What better time than Promptober, right?
> 
> *TWs in end notes*

Richie was floating through the chaos that was his memory.

Some of it was stuff he had yet to remember, some were memories he never ever wanted to recall again...while others just did not seem true. He was fairly certain Pennywise had tossed a bit of extra shit in there just to mess with him even more.

Stupid fucking clown.

Richie felt like he was living each scenario all over again.

Pain.

Embarrassment.

Shame.

Anger.

None of the memories were happy. None of them.

Of course Sloppywise wouldn’t spare a single ounce of happy memory in there. Why would he?

_‘Take it back...take it back!” thirteen-year-old Bill shouted at him._

Then came the hard punch to the face. For a string bean, he really could pack a punch. It had hurt.

It was filled with so much rage.

And Richie deserved it. Of course he did.

After the hit were some of the worst months of his life...living without his best friends...his family.

He had felt so lonely and so desperate for any sort of close contact with anyone.

Somewhere admist the rapid fire memories, Richie could hear the clown’s horrid, sing-songy voice: “ _Even your friends can’t handle you...you can’t keep connections with_ anyone _because you are_ no one. _You’re nothing but a pathetic little_ fairy boy _who tries to find love in all the wrong places...”_

_“Dude, why are you being weird?”_

No, he wasn’t. He _wasn’t._

He just wanted to play another round of Street Fighter...he just wanted a friend. Please don’t do this. Please.

_“You didn’t tell me your town was filled with fairies.”_

No. Please.

_“Richie fucking Tozier?”_

Out of everyone, he tried to connect and make friends with Henry Bowers’ cousin. Boy, did he know how to pick ‘em.

He was so stupid.

So fucking _stupid._

_“GET OUT OF HERE, FAGGOT.”_

Richie blinked hard, or…at least he thought he did. He honestly wasn’t even sure he had a body anymore.

_“GET OUT OF HERE FAGGOT,”_ Richie saw Henry Bowers’ words leave Eddie’s mouth…in Eddie’s voice.

And Eddie’s face was filled with such disgust…and it was aimed at _him._

No, no that’s not what happened. Eddie never said that. He _wouldn’t._

That fucking clown.

It had given Henry Bowers’ a mask. A mask of Eddie’s face. Sick fucker…

Eddie would never say that. Never.

Just as Richie thought he convinced himself, the clown’s unwelcome voice came chiming in again: _“Then why didn’t you tell them, hmm?”_

“Richie...Richie, hey!”

Was that Eddie?

That sounded like Eddie. Like...an older version of Eddie.

But wait, they _were_ older. Right? Richie was sure he just turned forty or something...right?

Right?

Pennywise’s voice continued to ring in the background of his mind: _“You could never tell anyone..._ especially _Eddie, could you? Because you know what they would do...you know how they would react...but you were casted out anyway, weren’t you? The first chance Bill got, he tossed you aside like the piece of_ nothing _you are...”_

“Richie. Richie, wake up!”

_“Then you went crawling back to them…crawling back because even when you_ tried _to make new friends...they wanted_ nothing _to do with something_ like you...”

“Richie, come on buddy-”

 _  
“Even now...all you are is a pathetically_ empty _thing who drinks too much and can’t handle his own-”_

_”_ Richie, wake up!”

_"You consume and consume and consume to try and fill that_ void _in your pathetic heart and body...and all the people you’ve met and made_ laugh...”

“Richie, come on! Wake up!”

_“They aren’t your_ real _friends though...they’re just there to temporarily stroke your fragile little ego until the next time you can shove some of that happy juice down your throat...”_

“Richie...”

_“Those friends are imaginary. Forty-years-old and you still play around with imaginary friends...”_

“Rich-”

_“And that’s all you’ll ever have. Right, Richie?”_

Richie gasped back to life.

His mouth and eyes felt extremely dry, like he hadn’t drank water in ten days or blinked his eyes for a solid five minutes. His knees and ankles were throbbing in pain as though he’d been dropped over a dozen feet onto hard, jagged rock.

“There he is, buddy! Hey!”

Eddie?

Richie blinked hard, trying to pull himself even further back into the present. He could smell sewage, mildew, and blood. It was nauseating.

“Rich, I think I got him!”

Finally, Richie could focus on the figure above him. Even through his dirty, cracked glasses he could see it was Eddie. The Eddie he’d been hearing through the Deadlights...right? That’s where he just was, right?

“I think it killed It!” Eddie exclaimed, real excitement in his voice.

Richie licked his lips. He wanted to speak but he was unable to find real, proper words within his jumbled mashed potato brain.

What he _wanted_ to do was go over and kick Pennyfucker’s dead body. Stomp on his head until his brain turned to mush underneath his shoes.

What Richie _yearned_ to do was take Eddie’s face in his hands and kiss him like there was no tomorrow. He wanted to start making up for all of the time they had lost when they had forgotten each other.

Richie had forgotten Eddie.

How could he have forgotten _Eddie?_

Yet, even through those years, Richie had still felt a gnawing, yearning feeling in his heart. It had felt like something was missing. Something very dear to him. He just hadn’t known what it was.

Richie wanted to insert all of that feeling into a kiss. And he wanted that kiss to surpass all the heartache of the past however many years...

“I think I-” Eddie started to say again until his words cut off with a strange choking sound.

Richie squeezed his eyes shut as something horribly warm splattered on his face.

The stench of blood intensified.

Richie opened his eyes again to see...was that a crab claw?

What the f-

Oh.

_No..._

Richie gaped in horror at the claw that was now obscenely protruding from Eddie’s body. When the hell had that even _happened_? Why didn’t Richie stop it?

Blood dribbled thickly out of Eddie’s mouth as a strange sort of grimace formed on his lips. It almost looked like a smile. But that wasn’t right. That couldn’t be right.

“Eddie...” Richie breathed.

This wasn’t happening.

This wasn’t happening.

This wasn’t _happening._

“Richie...” Eddie whimpered, more blood spilling past his lips.

And then he was thrown.

He was tossed aside like some sort of useless old doll that had been played with too many times. Eddie, _his_ Eddie, was hurled across the cavern like he was nothing.

Like he wasn’t someone Richie absolutely loved with his entire heart.

Richie ran as fast as he could across the cavern, ignoring the painful screaming of his injured knees and ankles. It didn’t matter. None of it did. He had to get to Eddie.

Eddie.

"Eddie! Eddie! You okay? Eddie, oh shit...you’re okay. You’ll be okay, man,” Richie said, trying his best to keep the fearful wavering out of his voice.

“Rich…” Eddie said, sounding so weak, like he had already lost way too much blood.

“Hey, yeah it’s me, man. Don’t worry. We’ll get you out of here, get you all fixed up, okay?” Richie said, taking off his own jacket to try and stop the blood flow…which was stupid because his jacket was leather. What the hell was leather going to do?

But he had to do _something. Anything._

“Richie, it’s…” Eddie swallowed down more blood. “It’s no use…”

“Shut the fuck up, man. Don’t talk like that, you’ll be fine! Alright?” Richie snapped a little too harshly. “You stabbed a guy, remember? You’re a fucking badass. This is nothing, right?”

Eddie coughed, blood spewing out to cover Richie’s frames even more.

Richie winced but continue to try and stop the flow that was absolutely _flooding_ from Eddie’s abdomen. There was too much. There was _too fucking much._

“No, there’s…there’s no use trying, Rich…” Eddie’s voice had gotten so weak.

Richie ignored him. He didn’t want to hear it. Eddie was going to make it out. He would be _fine._ Richie would make sure of it.

“You try, and you try, and you try, but…” Eddie made a sickening gurgling, choking sound. “You never succeed.”

What? What the hell was he talking about? It had to be the loss of blood. It was making him weak and delusional. Did that mean he was running out of time? Was Eddie about to d-

Richie shook that thought out of his mind. He refused to believe it. He refused to even _think_ it.

“Stop yammering and save your strength, man. You’ve gotta…” Richie’s voice cracked at the last word. “Please, just…”

“You try, and you try, and you try, but…” Eddie’s voice was getting scratchier, gruffer, and…harsher. There was an uneasy lilt to it that made Richie’s skin crawl.

“You’re still talking to...” Eddie’s eyes met Richie’s with a sudden sharp focus; they glowed a crisp, sickly yellow...no longer the soft, warm brown that Richie had fallen in love with years and years ago. “...an imaginary friend.”

Richie’s eyebrows furrowed, “Wh-“

Tentacle-like protrusions burst from Eddie’s wound and wrapped themselves tightly around Richie’s head. They were pulling him in, in, in...

Richie could hear screaming somewhere. It sounded alien, bizarre…a heart wrenching sound he had never heard before in his life and he wished to never hear again.

The screaming suddenly became muffled as he was pulled inside Eddie’s seeping, sticky, warm wound.

And suddenly Richie was drowning.

He was drowning in the gore and the blood.

He could feel it encompassing his head, shoulders, everything.

He was fairly certain a rib was cracking above his head. Eddie’s rib. It was poking him. It was jabbing into the top of his skull and it hurt.

The horrible screaming had become warbled. It sounded like someone trying to gasp and shriek their way out of a well full of murky water.

It sounded like someone screaming for help.

Richie gasped and sobbed as he was suddenly freed from the nasty, sticky, hot mog. He tried to open his eyes, but it hurt.

The blood covered his entire head, stained the shoulder and collar of his shirt, completely soaked his hair so it was dripping thickly and plastered against his skin.

He could taste blood. It was in his mouth. It was leaking down his throat like a slow, disgusting river.

His eyes burned.

Was blood supposed to burn?

Another scream erupted, though this time more broken.

And Richie realized it was him. He was the one screaming.

Suddenly, in the horror-filled haze, Richie felt gentle hands caressing his head, but he refused to truly believe it.

He did not dare accept that someone who actually cared was brushing the gore away from his eyes so he could see.

Richie opened his eyes anyway though.

Because he was stupid. So, so stupid.

Pennywise was grinning at him with its rows and rows of sharp, jagged teeth. An odd sort of clicking was making its way from its throat.

But the worst part of it was... It was still wearing Eddie’s face as a mask.

It grinned even wider before saying in a voice that sounded like a mix between the clown and the love of his life, “Beep beep, Richie.”

Then, Richie’s vision was a blur of lights and teeth.

And through it all, he could barely make out the sound of Eddie’s real voice shouting his name.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for blood and violence  
> TW for slurs (F-word, “fairy/fairies”)  
> TW for body horror
> 
> Feel free to talk to me:
> 
> [Tumblr](https://itjammy.tumblr.com)  
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/softplaidpjs) 🔞


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello!
> 
> Me? Continuing a fic that was only supposed to be a one-shot? It’s more likely than you think.
> 
> Also, please please heed the tags because more will probably be added. I’m not trying to sneak anything in, it’s just I’m not completely sure what tags to add just yet, so...
> 
> Enjoy and thanks for reading!
> 
> **TWs in end notes**

Eddie belatedly ran out of the tunnel after Richie, only to skid to a stop and gape as he was lifted higher and higher into the air. The Deadlights had him trapped...just like they did Beverly twenty-seven years ago.

And Eddie was frozen. He was completely frozen in stupid, stupid fear.

Pennywise was too big, too powerful. And it had Richie.

Shit, it had _Richie._

But what the hell were they going to do about it? What was _Eddie_ going to do about it? They were losing, and they were going to keep losing because Pennywise was just too strong-

“Eddie! Throw it!”

Eddie snapped out of his fear-induced stupor enough to turn his head at Beverly shouting at him from across the cave.

Throw it...throw what?

Eddie clenched his fists and finally seemed to remember what Beverly had given him along with the words to go with it.

_“Take it. It kills monsters...if you believe it does.”_

Eddie bent down and picked up the spear that he had dropped when he and Richie had retreated into the tunnel. He experimentally turned it in his hands.

“If you believe it does,” Eddie repeated the words to himself, allowing them to give him any ounce of strength.

Eddie didn’t think any further. Not on his fear, and not on the potentially negative outcome. It was now or never. And he was choosing now.

“Beep beep, motherfucker!” he shouted as he darted forward and reared back the spear.

However, just as the spear was about to leave his hand, Pennywise faltered and its mouth snapped shut. The cave still held a sort of supernatural emerald hue and glow, but the glaring brightness of the Deadlights stopped.

Meanwhile, Richie fell at least twenty feet to the ground. A loud crack was heard as his dead weight harshly met the detrimentally hard ground feet first. Eddie winced at the sound, but was happy he was at least free from the Deadlights. Or at least he thought he was. Why wasn’t he moving?

Pennywise made a strange disgruntled sound and Eddie looked up.

It was glaring right at him.

Eddie gulped in fear.

Pennywise then grinned menacingly and his dangling arms turned into gross tentacle-like projections and wrapped around Richie’s middle.

Once again, Eddie was standing uselessly by as Richie was brought up into the air. It roughly brandished him before exclaiming a snide, “Uh oh!”

And Eddie watched as Richie was thrown across the cave and down into one of the cavities.

“Richie!” Eddie shouted.

“Rich!” Bill shouted from across the cave.

The others were calling out as well, watching in complete helplessness as their friend was discarded so harshly.

Pennywise scuttled in the same direction Richie’s body had gone, shrinking enough so it could enter the cavity. Large portions of rock crumbled and fell in its wake.

It was going to kill him. Pennywise was going to kill Richie. Eddie wasn’t sure why It had stopped in the first place, but it didn’t matter now. He had to get to Richie.

Eddie ran as fast as he could across the cave. He had to climb over the bits of fallen rock at the head of the tunnel, stumbling a bit in his haste. He managed to keep his footing, though, and continue running.

When Eddie got to the top of a slight incline, he skidded to a halt at what he saw.

“Oh shit,” Eddie said shakily.

A man had Richie’s entire head in his mouth, and it was ...oh fuck, what the fuck?

The “man” was lurching his way further down Richie’s body, past his shoulders and down his chest like an anaconda devouring a large meal.

“Richie,” Eddie whimpered, frozen once again in fear.

Beverly screamed as she and the others arrived.

“Oh sh-shit,” Bill stuttered in a wavering voice.

Stanley’s eyes widened. He was brought back to a similar memory. To when the creepy flute woman in the portrait attacked him and latched onto his face.

Mike and Ben’s eyes shined bright with shock and they looked around for anything that could help. But there was nothing. There was nothing they could do as they watched their friend get devoured before their very eyes.

Then, something happened that seemed to snap Eddie back to reality...

Richie’s body spasmed violently as the “man” moved even further down his body, lips now reaching his hips. Richie’s slack hand twitched with life.

The life that was still there as he was being eaten alive.

Eddie’s face shifted from fear to absolute fury.

No. He was _not_ going to let Richie down. He was not going to let Richie die.

Eddie charged forward, toward the creature that was undoubtedly Pennywise in disguise. He was practically marching toward his fear. Because the rage he was feeling toward the clown combined with the fear of losing Richie before his very eyes was greater than anything else he was feeling.

Eddie heard Beverly and Ben shout his name as he hurried down the incline toward the sickening spectacle. Rocks skittered down from under his shoes, but nothing was disrupting It from consuming his best friend.

“Hey, Fuckface!” Eddie shouted, echoing what Richie had exclaimed earlier.

The “man” gurgled wetly and looked up at him.

“Yeah, you! Let him go, you fucking clown!” Eddie demanded, hoping he sounded as brave as he felt.

And he must have, because Pennywise retracted itself from Richie’s body with a disgusting slurp.

It was horrifying...watching a humanlike figure with such a freakishly large, gaping maw. Its jaw extended about three feet. Long, sharp teeth adorned its mouth, not stopping at the back molars like a regular human’s would; they went further back, down into the dark cavern that was its throat...where Richie just was.

But now Richie was...Richie was somehow still standing, but also slack. How the hell was he still standing there?

His knees looked about ready to give out and his arms were completely limp at his sides. His head was tilted down, having lifelessly flopped out when released.

There was so much blood. Richie was absolutely soaking in it. It was disgusting, and if the situation weren’t so dire Eddie would have gagged. Eddie couldn’t even tell if Richie’s eyes were open, but oddly enough, he hoped he was still in the Deadlights. Eddie didn’t even want to think about Richie actually being conscious when It...

Eddie’s expression fell into fear for a brief moment and Pennywise chuckled darkly. A deep, throaty, wet clicking was sounding from its throat. And as its mouth was shrinking back to normal, Eddie’s blood ran cold.

Because suddenly he was looking into a mirror.

It was him. He was looking at himself.

“Wh-” Eddie breathed.

“He tried to save you, Eds,” Pennywise-Eddie said in a grating whisper, mouth still shrinking as it spoke.

It was so very eerie...watching Pennywise’s voice leave his own mouth.

“What the fuck...” Eddie murmured in shock.

“PooOOoor Richie was trying to save you after I claWWwwed through your pathetic little body,” It continued, voice sounding more manic than usual.

What was it talking about? He wasn’t clawed by anything.

“He failed though. POOoor Richie failed...and the last thing he saw was you...and you did not hesitate to let him know...just how much of a FAILure he is...”

Eddie’s nostrils flared in anger as Pennywise’s taunting words fell into dark laughter.

He heard the others coming up behind him. He paid no mind though as he continued glaring at the clown.

“Watcha gonna do, Eds?” It jeered.

Eddie’s lips tightened to a thin line.

“Why are you staring at me like that, Eddie Bear?” Eddie’s mother’s voice suddenly came through.

Its face shifted to Sonia Kaspbrak’s, and it was deeply disturbing for Eddie to see his mother’s face on his body.

“What have I done wrong? All I ever did was protect you, Eddie, sweetie.”

Pennywise was slowly moving forward.

Eddie’s breath was getting shakier by the second.

“Eddie,” Bill murmured in warning, suddenly appearing next to him.

“Your feelings? These feelings you have? That’s your sickness,” the distorted Sonia-Eddie figure spoke. “Such things aren’t healthy...you know this.”

“Eddie,” Stanley said then, fear lacing his voice. There was something else there too, though it was hard to decipher what it was.

“So I took care of the problem,” Sonia’s face smiled at him, blood glistening on its teeth. “I took care of him for you so you no longer have to worry about having these sick, sick, sick, sick feelings.”

“Eds-” Ben spoke up, voice full of caution.

“Because that’s exactly what they are. Sick, sick, sick,” Pennywise was so dangerously close now, and still creeping forward. Its eyes were glowing its terrible, vile yellow. “Sick, sick, sick-”

“Eddie, do something!” Bill shouted.

“Sick-”

“ _FUCK YOU!_ ” Eddie shouted so loudly and suddenly like a battle cry.

He brought the sharp spear up over his head and stabbed it down into Its eye. A monstrous shriek left its mouth.

“Fucking _clown_!” Eddie shouted as he ripped the object back out.

It had begun shapeshifting back to its clown form and was emitting a strange sort of whimper that seemed to echo through the chamber.

Everyone stared in shock as Pennywise didn’t fight back, instead retreating back a bit.

“Is it...i-it’s dying,” Beverly said.

Bill looked questioningly at Mike, whose face was dawning in realization.

“All living things must abide by the laws of the shape they inhabit...” Mike murmured. “Eddie’s...making it small.”

“What?” Ben asked.

“Because there’s more than one way to make someone small,” Stanley said, catching on quickly.

He and Mike looked at each other in understanding.

Pennywise was beginning to recover from Eddie’s assault, and it lunged toward him, though with less strength than it usually exhibited.

“Get the hell back you clown!” Mike shouted, running to Eddie’s side.

“You think you can defeat me?! I’m the _eater of worlds,”_ It hissed, heading for Mike.

“You stupid fucking clown!” Stanley yelled, stopping it in its tracks. “We’re not afraid of you! _I’m_ not afraid of you! Not anymore!”

Eddie spared glances at both friends. Then his eyes went back to Pennywise, who was growling like a wild animal caught in a trap.

And suddenly, Eddie understood.

That's exactly what It _was_.

Without fear...It had nothing.

Bill, Beverly, and Ben were not far behind in figuring this out as well.

“You’re nothing but a rickety old lady!” Beverly shouted.

“And a mimic! A bully!” Ben chimed in.

“You’re no eater of worlds, you’re just a damn clown!” Bill yelled.

“You’re just a pathetic piece of shit! Dumb fucking clown!” Eddie spat.

He felt even stronger, surrounded by his friends. Yet, somehow, it was more than a mere feeling. It was something that seemed to be enshrouding the entire cavern. It was something Eddie knew he would never be able to really describe. It almost seemed magical.

Pennywise was shrinking and shriveling into something that resembled an old, wrinkled wad of gum on pavement. It was still trying to fight, to scare...and Eddie was so wrapped up in the moment he narrowly missed it manifesting a giant crab claw and striking in his direction.

Eddie barely dodged it. He grabbed the limb and tore it from Pennywise’s failing body. And if Eddie had been paying any attention, he would have seen Beverly stare at him in astonishment at the strength he had just shown.

They continued hurling insults, and Pennywise continued backing away from them. They passed by Richie, who was still standing slack in place like a puppet who had been abandoned by its owner and now only existed to hang on a hook.

Bill placed a solid, reassuring hand on Richie’s shoulder as they passed, not even caring about the sticky blood that covered his palm and fingers as he did so.

The Losers had finally backed Pennywise into a corner. It had shrunk down to the size of a toddler. Its large head looked as though it were melting against the rocks. It was looking fearfully up at them and whimpering pathetically.

Bill remorselessly reached down and dug his hand into its chest. It hissed and screamed as Bill pulled out its rapidly beating heart. Oddly enough, the organ looked like it could have belonged to a human.

But this thing wasn’t human. It was something that tormented them as kids. It was a monster who had killed countless children as well as adults.

It killed Georgie.

It almost killed Richie.

“Let’s kill this fucking clown,” Eddie said.

Everyone put their hands on the heart...and squeezed.

Pennywise shrieked and screamed. They could feel its power slipping away. They could feel it dying. It was like an exhilarating electricity shooting from their fingertips and all throughout their bodies.

When there was nothing left to squeeze, when the heart was no longer beating and had become a nasty puddle of mush in their hands, the electricity began to fade.

“Look at you...” Pennywise murmured weakly, staring up at them with glassy eyes. “You’re all...grown up...”

And with those last words, it died.

The electricity disappeared, and a hard thud sounded from behind them as Richie crumpled to the ground.

”Shit, Richie,” Eddie said, running over to his crumpled body.

He looked...oh shit.

Beverly gasped and slapped a hand to her mouth while Stanley, Bill, and Mike stared grimly down at their friend’s damaged body.

“Oh shit,” Ben said in a shaky voice, eyes wide.

Eddie gulped as he took in every disturbing detail.

One of Richie’s legs was visibly crooked, and his jacket and shirt were shredded, revealing deep lacerations in his skins from the clown’s teeth.

His glasses were nowhere to be found. And his face...shit, his face...

His eyelids were lacerated completely through, revealing cuts to the eyeballs underneath.

Eddie let out a shaky breath and pressed his fingers to Richie’s neck. When he felt a pulse he let out a sigh of relief.

Richie looked absolutely horrible, but he was alive.

“I-is he...” Beverly’s said in a wavering voice as she fell to her knees and ran a hand through Richie’s blood-soaked hair.

“He’s alive, but we’ve got to get him out of here. Now.”

“H-how?” Stanley asked. “We can’t just-”

“I don’t know how, but we’re going to figure it the fuck out,” Eddie snapped. “We have time to figure something out! It’s not like the place is falling down on us.”

Stanley startled a bit at Eddie’s harsh tone. He hadn’t _actually_ been suggesting that they leave Richie behind. Of course not. He just had no idea how they were going to get him out like this.

Stanley nodded in determination though, “Yeah. We’ll figure it out.”

“We’re gonna get you out of here, Rich,” Eddie said, hand grabbing onto Richie’s. “That damn clown isn’t going to hurt us anymore. We won.”

”We fucking won,” Bill confirmed with a slight nod.

Mike gave a small smile and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

Even in the midst of their situation, they managed to exchange relieved and tiredly radiant glances with each other.

How could they not? Pennywise was dead. He was officially gone, and it felt amazing.

Then a crackling sort of noise was heard, and Eddie and Beverly jumped up from the ground. They all readied their stance, obviously still on edge in case Pennywise wasn’t completely dead.

But...its shriveled body was still slowly fading off to nothing in the corner. It was clearly dead. After all, they had felt it this time. _Really_ felt it.

The crackling stopped, and everyone furrowed their eyebrows and looked at each other in confusion.

A few seconds of silence passed. And just as they thought it had been nothing, the crackling began again, though louder than before.

Then, they all watched in dismay as large rocks that had been knocked loose by Pennywise collapsed into the opening of the cavern.

“Well, shit,” Stanley said.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for body horror  
> TW for blood  
> TW for eye trauma  
> TW for homophobia
> 
> Feel free to talk to me:
> 
> [Tumblr](https://itjammy.tumblr.com)  
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/softplaidpjs) 🔞


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Happy Early Halloween! Hope y’alls October has been great and SPOOPY.
> 
> **TWs in end notes**

A warm glow lit Eddie’s features as he struck a match.

He had remembered that Mike had brought a box of matches for the Ritual of Chud. And Eddie was grateful when he found out that Mike had somehow managed to hang onto them throughout all the chaos.

Beverly was carding a hand through Richie’s dirty, gross hair. She had removed her shirt so Eddie could use it for whatever he needed. She hadn’t even thought twice about it. She was among friends. Her dearest friends. And she felt no trepidation as she sat there in only a bra and jeans.

Eddie struck another match.

He had already lit ten in the span of five minutes, each time trying his best to keep the flame alive for as long as possible as he skimmed it along bits of cloth. He held onto each match for as long as his fingers would allow. He knew that he would undoubtedly have callouses at the tips of his fingers from burning himself over and over again, but that was the least of his worries. Hell, it wasn't even on his radar. This was the only thing he could do to even remotely disinfect the dirty cloth so he could dab and bandage Richie's wounds. Once the cotton fabric started to burn and crisp at the edges, he would deem it good enough and tend to Richie's wounds.

Eddie gently laid a couple of the partially disinfected strips from Beverly's cotton tank top onto Richie's wounded eyes.

He had struggled with the first couple of minutes of tending to Richie's eyes, gagging a bit as he dabbed away some of the sticky gunk and blood. He couldn't help it though. He knew an impressive amount of first aid, but this...this was a whole other level. This was something he never thought he'd have to deal with. Never in a million years.

Richie didn't even twitch as Eddie gently pressed down on the heated cloth that now covered the maimed optics, ensuring that the fabric was securely in place.

Eddie held up the navy blue bandana Ben had offered from his jeans pocket. He lit a couple more matches and scraped the flame all across the cloth.

He hissed as the flame once again licked his fingers. He dropped the spent match and shook the burning sensation away, then tied the bandana around Richie's head and over his eyes.

Ben, Bill, Mike, and Stan had made their way up the shallow incline to check just how impaired their exit was. They had been gone for about thirty minutes...or at least what Eddie _thought_ was thirty minutes. It was getting hard to tell anymore. And he had a sinking feeling that the stretch of time meant it was going to be quite the struggle to get out...especially with one of them incapacitated.

The terrifying thought of them unable to even get out at all kept bullying its way into his mind.

He shook it away every time.

Because they _would_ get out. They had just defeated a demonic killer clown. They had just done what most would deem impossible. They weren’t about to let some stupid rocks get in the way of their escape, and ultimately, living their lives.

A life without Pennywise meant a lifetime of happiness for himself _and_ his friends. Eddie wasn’t about to let that go, and he was sure the others felt the same.

Eddie’s eyebrows were furrowed deeply in concentration as he worked, hovering over the worst of the lacerations on Richie’s left arm. They were deep. So deep he could see the shiny, layered cushioning of muscle and fat.

Even amid the rank air of the sewers, he could smell the coppery stench of free-flowing blood wafting into his nostrils.

His first order of business had been to tie some strips of Beverly’s torn tank top onto Richie’s bicep as a makeshift tourniquet. Now, as he was going back through to check over his handy work, he could still see a fair amount of blood seeping through the lacerations.

“Shit,” Eddie murmured more to himself than anyone else.

“What? What’s wrong?” Beverly asked.

“Need a stronger fabric after all,” he said, quickly removing his jacket and t-shirt.

His own jacket landed on top of Richie’s leather one, which had also been discarded thoughtlessly to the side.

Mike and Ben had helped Eddie remove the jacket from Richie’s body, which had cooperated about as well as a rag doll’s. It had been rather sickening to witness him so slack like that. It had been like undressing a dead body.

Eddie had been able to hear Richie, clear as day, making a joke in his mind, _"Weekend at Bernie's, anyone?"_

Ben had tossed away the shredded leather jacket as soon as it was removed, and Eddie had dove down and gotten to work before the ruined fabric had even hit the ground.

Because Richie was not a dead body, and he wasn’t about to be. Not if Eddie had anything to say about it.

Eddie realized how oddly fortunate it was that everyone’s clothes were ripped in various places. It was all the easier to tear off strips to aid in treating Richie’s wounds. Well, the very little he _could_ do to treat his wounds. After all, there wasn’t much he could do for Richie besides the bare minimum. He had virtually _no supplies_ in this damn sewer cave.

“Sorry, I guess... I guess you took off your shirt for nothing. I should’ve been the one to offer first, huh?” Eddie said.

“It’s not proper etiquette for doctors to work on their patients without clothes on,” Beverly joked tiredly.

Eddie gave a fair smile at the attempt.

Though, Beverly _was_ suddenly all too aware that she and Eddie were shirtless and hovering over their friend. And she couldn’t help the downcast smile as she once again carded her fingers through Richie’s knotted hair. She knew for a fact that, if Richie were to wake up right in that moment, he would make some sort of remark upon seeing them hovering over him with no shirts on...no matter how dismal the situation. He _was_ the Trashmouth, after all.

Oh, how Beverly desperately wished for that to happen. But Richie hadn’t moved so much as a pinky since being released from Pennywise’s clutches.

And even if he _did_ wake up right in that moment...he wouldn’t have been able to see them in order to make such a joke anyway...because his eyes were-

Beverly sucked in a sharp breath. A lump formed in her throat as the situation set in once more.

Eddie had been fiddling with a tic-tac-sized hole in his own shirt before effectively tearing it into two pieces. He looked up at her, concern in his soft brown eyes.

“Hey, we’ll get out of here, alright?” he said firmly, misunderstanding her current distress. “We will.”

Beverly’s eyes met his, absolute wonderment shining from them.

Eddie was comforting her. _Eddie_ was comforting _her_ at a time like this. Whereas before, Eddie’s eyes held such fear that it was a wonder he wasn’t pissing his pants...now they held such a strong determination.

How was this the same Eddie that mere hours ago she was having to convince to even follow them down into this hell hole?

The shift was incredible.

Beverly provided a small smile, “Yeah, yeah we will."

Eddie nodded, a smile forcing its way onto his face as well. It felt wrong, but he allowed it to happen all the same.

When he looked back down though, the smile faded to the deep concentration it held before.

He tied the new tourniquet onto Richie’s bicep before securing and tying the rest of the torn pieces of tank top and t-shirt onto the open wounds themselves.

Eddie hoped it was enough. He hoped it would be enough to keep him going until they could get the hell out of there.

He stayed pressing on the deepest laceration, effectively slowing the bleeding. As the minutes passed, though, some very real concerns gnawed at his brain...

Infection

Amputation

Excessive loss of blood

He had the means to halt the latter, but the other complications?

Eddie’s lips tightened and his eyebrows furrowed. He placed a gentle hand in Richie’s, intertwining their fingers.

Eddie hoped that Richie could sense him somehow, feel the comfort he was trying to provide...even though he had yet to move at all. Eddie wasn’t sure if he was grateful that he was still unconscious or not.

He wanted to hear Richie’s voice, though. He wanted him to wake up and tell Eddie it was all going to be okay. He knew this was selfish on his part, but he couldn’t help it.

Eddie clutched his hand tighter, not even noticing as Beverly glanced at him with a knowing expression.

Eddie sniffed loudly and blinked the moisture from his eyes.

Now was _not_ the time to break down. Richie still needed him.

He looked over his work on Richie’s arms, ensuring that everything had indeed stopped bleeding. Then, he made quick work of ripping Richie’s button-up from his body.

_”At least buy me dinner first, Eds, damn.”_

Eddie shook Richie’s teasing voice from his head. A mix between a sob and a laugh breaking free from his throat.

Beverly looked at him in concern. “You okay there, Eds?”

”Yeah, I’m...I’m fine,” Eddie gritted out, angrily tearing at Richie’s ugly button-up shirt.

Beverly wanted to say more, but didn’t have the chance.

”When this is all over and done with, you owe me big time, dickhead,” Eddie ground out, beginning to disinfect the strips of Richie’s shirt. “Making me undress you in a sewer cave? Not the best idea for a first date.”

That tossed them into a heavy silence. The only other noise being the distance murmuring of Ben, Mike, Bill, and Stan at the head of the cavern.

Eddie sighed heavily, his chin dropping to his chest.

”Eds-“ Beverly started gently, lip wobbling a bit.

”Please, just...” Eddie practically whimpered. “Just don’t say anything, Bev.”

Beverly wanted to run over and hug him. Hold him and tell him that everything was going to be alright. That _Richie_ was going to be alright.

She wanted to tell him that Richie felt the same way because _of course he did._ It was so fucking obvious.

She didn’t have the chance to say any of it as the sound of rapid footsteps grabbed their attention.

They looked up to see Mike and Bill walking down the incline.

”Hey guys, how’s Richie?” Bill asked, sounding a bit out of breath.

”How does he _look,_ Bill?” Eddie snapped dryly.

”Fair enough.”

“What going on?" Beverly asked.

“We think we can get out, but it’ll take some time and a lot of muscle,” Mike explained.

“How much time?” Eddie asked, glancing back down at Richie.

Mike shrugged and sighed, “All depends on the muscle. Stan and Ben have already started.”

“I’ll help too,” Beverly said, brushing her hands on her pants as she stood up.

Eddie bit his lip in trepidation, eyes still trained on Richie’s face.

“You can stay here if you want, Eds,” Beverly offered gently.

“N-no, no. The faster we move the rocks the better. And the more people, the faster it’ll go, right?”

Mike and Beverly nodded.

Eddie crawled over to where he had tossed his jacket aside. He balled it up and adjusted it underneath Richie’s head like a pillow.

“I’ll be back, Rich. We’re going to work on getting you the hell outta here, okay?” he said as though Richie were actually a proper recipient at the moment.

They began walking up the incline, but Mike stopped when he realized one of them was missing.

“Bill? You coming?” Mike asked.

Bill had been busy glaring at the clown’s corpse in the corner, which was still present. It appeared even more goopy than before, body melting like ice cream on a hot day. Its eyes now resembled slimy, foggy marbles.

He wondered why It wasn’t fading away the way it had twenty-seven years ago. He supposed it was because they had bullied it down to its smaller form...to something more ephemeral and weak. Something more mortal.

And just like any mortal, it was going through some sort of decomposition process.

It was even more proof that they had defeated It for good. That It was officially gone and dead.

Bill just wished he didn’t have to keep fucking _looking at it._

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m coming," he said, turning away from the disgusting sight and following his friends up the incline.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

Richie was floating in thick, balmy water. He had been under for a while, but...he could breathe. He _was_ breathing, right?

Everything around him was dark with faint hues of green. The color looked familiar, but where had he seen it?

Shit, the sewers, that's right...

_“_ _Edd_ _...”_

A familiar voice echoed throughout the abyss. It brought some form of comfort as it vibrated around him like a smooth, gentle bass from a speaker.

_“Ed..._ _ddie_ _...”_

Eddie?

Shit, Eddie...

Richie could feel warm blood splatter against his face as the memory of Eddie getting skewered flashed through his mind.

He hadn't been able save him. He had tried but...

Eddie ended up dy-

_“_ _Edd_ _..._ _ie_ _...stop...”_

Wait...wait a second...that wasn’t right...

Eddie didn’t die. He didn’t because he...It...

_“Stop,_ _Edd._ _..._ need to...”

He remembered seeing lights. A trio of bright, spinning lights. They burned hotter and hotter the closer he got. It had felt like being pulled into a furnace.

And the...the teeth. Sharp teeth extending back into the slick, wet tunnel of a gaping maw.

He kept getting sucked further and further down into the hot, wet throat of the clown. Its teeth had torn into his flesh, dragging and opening the skin like a zipper on a coat.

And then came the searing pain that had pierced his eyes.

He had wanted to scream, to cry, to fight out of the tight walls surrounding him like a cocoon. He couldn’t though. He couldn't do any of it. It was like he was wide awake, but unable to move, to function, to _anything._

He didn’t want to relive this anymore. He wanted to go back to the warm dark waters he had been floating in.

He didn’t want...

_“Eddie you_ need to rest!”

The voices were clearer than ever before. They sounded as though they were right next to his ear, not muffled like before.

And then he distinctly heard Beverly shouting as clear as day...

“Richie? Richie! Eddie, Richie’s waking up!”

Richie let in a loud, grating gasp as consciousness found him and he came crashing back down to earth.

And it was _painful._

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for graphic description of injuries  
> TW for gore/blood, body horror/eye trauma  
> TW for claustrophobic elements
> 
> Feel free to talk to me:
> 
> [Tumblr](https://itjammy.tumblr.com)  
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/softplaidpjs) 🔞


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello! Hope everyone had a good Halloween and a good October in general.
> 
> **TWs in end notes**

Eddie had been moving rocks for hours. His arms felt like a painful jelly and his jaw was cramping from how hard he had been clenching his teeth the entire time.

The whole task had begun to feel like a direct insult toward him, toward his friends, his _life._ He was taking it personally. How could he not? The only thing standing in the way between living and dying were the fucking rocks that damn clown had caused to crumble down. They were like one last joke; one final way for It to taunt them and make their lives shit.

“Eddie.”

He whipped around to see Ben, concern shining in his eyes.

“Why don’t you take a break?”

It was spoken out of true care and concern, but that didn’t mean it didn’t piss him off.

No, he was _not_ going to take a break. They needed to get out of there. There was no telling how long they’d been underground. A day? Two days? Three? Was time even still an ongoing factor? Or did Pennywise somehow create a never-ending limbo down in the sewers?

Eddie's mouth was rather dry and he was sweating out valuable moisture his body desperately needed. But _shit_ he couldn’t just sit and do _nothing_. Richie was...for fuck’s sake, Richie was dy-

Eddie emitted a frustrated, almost animalistic growl and went back to moving the rocks.

Ben couldn’t help but be in awe of the stamina and physical strength Eddie was presenting in that moment. Hell, he’d had no idea Eddie was even hiding such a physically fit body underneath the poorly-fitted clothes he’d been wearing before.

"Eddie, you’ve...come on, man, you’ve been at this for hours...”

He really had. And the last thing they needed was for him to collapse from exhaustion and dehydration. After all, that was the _only_ reason the rest of them had decided to take a break. Not because they were lazy or tired or didn't care, but because it was _necessary._ They would be of no use to Richie or to each other if they were passed out.

“Eddie, we're worried, man,” Ben said delicately, still trying to get him to stop and rest.

He jumped a bit as a presence appeared behind him, but eased up when he saw that it was just Stan. He had undoubtedly been able to sense his struggle and had come up to help.

They understood why Eddie was acting in such a way. _Of course_ they did, but they also knew that they didn’t need another member of their party collapsing and being down for the count. It was already going to be a struggle getting just _one_ prone body out of the sewers, let alone two.

Ben could sense the anger bristling from Eddie’s body, but he tried again anyway, “Richie wouldn't want this. You need to take a break. Please? Please, Eds, you’re gonna hurt-”

“Hurt myself?” Eddie snapped, whipping around and clumsily throwing a large rock off to the side. “In case you haven’t noticed, _Richie_ is the one who’s hurt right now, Ben. Not me. How-how can you guys just sit there and-”

“Eddie,” Stanley said with a stern calmness. “Stop.”

Eddie’s nostril’s flared. He knew he was being unfair. He knew his friends were right in their concerns, but shit, he wanted...no, _they_ _needed_ to get _out._

Stan and Eddie stared each other down for a few awkward seconds before a look of cognizance and rationality passed over the latter’s face, smoothing out the deep lines of anger.

Ben thought that maybe he was finally calming down...that Stanley’s ever-constant voice of reason was what Eddie needed to hear in order to understand. But then, all too suddenly, his face fell back into the same aggrieved determination and he turned away from them without a word.

“Stop, Eddie!” Stanley reached out and grabbed his bicep, which was coated with sweat at that point. “You need to-”

“No, Stan!” Eddie harshly jerked his arm away. “I can’t just...I-I can’t j-just sit and do _nothing._ I _can’t_!”

“We’re not _asking_ you to do _nothing_ , we’re asking you to rest and preserve some energy so you can serve as more help than a burden!” Stanley bit out.

It was a harsh way of putting it, but he needed to break through to Eddie somehow, because if he didn't, he would surely collapse from exhaustion, dehydration, or both.

Eddie's hands were on his hips and he was breathing hard from emotion as well as physical exertion. And he actually appeared to be contemplating Stanley's words.

His chin dropped to his chest as he let out a loud, defeated sigh.

Both Ben and Stan were staring at him, ready to physically drag him away from the pile of rocks if he began working at them again.

Eddie flung his head up. Exhaustion covered his face.

"Okay, fine. You win."

"I always win," Stan joked flatly.

Eddie let out a dry, breathy laugh.

"Twenty minutes. Tops," Eddie said, moving forward a couple steps.

And then his legs gave out.

Stan and Ben were quick to catch him, calling out his name in alarm.

“The fuck did I tell you, huh?” Stanley ground out, though the worry was evident on his face.

“Eddie, you need to rest!” Ben practically pleaded.

“I-I’m fine, I just...got a little light-headed.”

Since _when_ did Eddie take his physical ailments so lightly?

“That’s because you’ve been going non-stop like some kind of short Rambo,” Stan commented.

Eddie grinned slightly at that, because it sounded like something Richie would have said.

“Eugh, don’t say that,” Stan groaned.

Oh, Eddie hadn’t realized he’d said that out loud.

Alright, so maybe they were right...maybe he _should_ rest for a bit, then he could get back to work and they could get the hell out of-

“ _Richie?_ ”

Stan, Ben, and Eddie looked down the incline at the sound of Beverly’s voice. The way she had said Richie’s name was rather alarming, like he was...

“Richie! Eddie...Richie’s waking up!”

Eddie took off, tired body be damned. He sprinted clumsily down the incline, slipping and sliding on loose rock and moist gunk. He skidded to a stop by Richie’s body.

Whereas before Richie was an unconscious, motionless form... now his head was tossing from side to side, awful and gut-wrenching moans making their way from his throat and past his lips.

Beverly was trying to calm him down by running her fingers through his hair. Bill was settled by his head and Mike was at his legs, holding all four limbs down in an attempt to keep him from jostling his injuries too much.

“Richie, sweetie, it’s okay. It’s okay!”

“Hey, hey...stop moving. You'll hurt yourself. Richie, please!”

“Come on, man...you gotta calm down!”

They were all three babbling, desperately hoping something would break through Richie’s disoriented, foggy brain. But it was all falling on deaf ears. The only thing Richie was comprehending in that moment was the horrible pain and the muddling darkness.

“Hey, hey, hey, Rich! Shh...it’s okay. Shh, shh...” Eddie knelt on the ground, palms pressing to the sides of Richie's face in an attempt to ground him.

Beverly, Bill, and Mike stood up and backed away a bit...believing that if anyone was going to be able to bring Richie down from his panic it would be Eddie.

“Wh-where...” Richie choked out, voice thick with grogginess, fear, and pain.

It pulled at Eddie's heart in the worst way.

“The sewers, remember? You're here with us. You're safe. It's okay,” Eddie said in a firm yet gentle tone.

“D-d-dark...it’s so d-dark, E-Eds," Richie whimpered, and Eddie was sure he felt his own heart crack right down the middle.

“Shh...I know, Rich, I know. But it’s okay. I'm here. I'm here, okay? I’m h-”

Richie’s body gave a hard tremble as a distressed sob broke free from his throat.

“P-please, not again...please.”

Eddie’s eyebrows furrowed. He looked up at Bill to see the same confused expression mirrored back at him.

“Stop...let me go, please. S-stop a-acting like...stop looking like him. _Eddie_...please stop it...”

Eddie’s face fell apart.

Richie didn’t think Eddie was real. He didn’t believe that this was really Eddie. In his mind, he was still at the mercy of that fucking clown. He truly believed he was still with the nightmare-fueled being that had worn Eddie's skin for its own sick glee.

“Eddie... _please..."_

Richie was uttering his name so brokenly and with such fear, it took everything in him to not start sobbing right then and there. He _never_ wanted to hear Richie say his name like that ever again.

“Please, stop. Please...please just let me _go_ ,” Richie sobbed, trying to thrash his face free from Eddie’s comforting hands.

Or, at least...they were _supposed_ to be comforting...but Richie was acting as though his fingers were branding into his skin.

“Richie, no, no, no, it’s me. It’s really me, I’m here,” Eddie said desperately, not letting go of his face no matter how hard Richie was trying to break free.

He just wanted him to see...he just needed him to _know_ that this was really him. It was _him._ Not Pennywise.

He needed him to know that this was real. That _he_ was real. That he wasn’t going to hurt him or do anything that Pennywise had done to him while disguised in his skin.

“P-please, just...if you’re gonna do it...” Richie cried quietly, his fighting starting to fade into a defeated slump. “Please just do it already, p-please...I c-can't...”

Eddie’s eyes were burning with the tears that were so close to escaping, and it was Richie’s following words that caused them to break free like a dam bursting apart.

“Pl-please just kill me already.”

Eddie’s blood ran cold.

He couldn’t take it.

If he thought he hated the clown before, someone was going to have to come up with a whole new, harsher word for what he was feeling. It surged through him like white hot lightening, and it presented itself through tears.

He couldn’t stop the flow at that point even if he tried.

“Richie...Richie, no, please don’t...please don’t say...” Eddie wept, leaning down so far that his forehead touched Richie’s own.

But the touch only seemed to ignite Richie’s fear even further.

“Please,” he begged brokenly. “I don't want...I can't take anymore... _please-_ "

“ _No!”_ Eddie shouted, and Richie seemed to recoil further into the floor.

Ben could see the situation was drastically out of control, and it was causing Richie to thrash around again and further irritate his injuries. Eddie wasn’t faring so well either, appearing as though he were about to mentally break apart at any second.

Eddie didn't even seem to notice Ben kneeling down on the floor beside him.

“Eddie, Eddie, he’s...he’s not in his right mind, okay? He doesn’t mean it,” Ben placed a hand on his shoulder and tried to gently pull him away from Richie’s shaking form. “Why don’t we just...”

Eddie ignored him and continued pleading, desperate for Richie to believe him, “Richie, you’re...you’re _here. I’m here._ It’s _me!”_

But Richie’s face just crumbled even more, as though every word Eddie spoke sent him further and further into the nightmare that inhabited his brain.

Ben looked to the others for help, but they appeared so helpless and lost. Even Stan.

Eddie continued cradling Richie’s face, not even caring about the snot and tears that were merging together and forming nasty streams down his face. He didn’t _care._

He'd wanted to save Richie. He'd wanted him to _live,_ because Eddie couldn't bear the thought of existing in a world without Richie Tozier. But Pennywise just had to take that away...just had to take away Eddie's absolute favorite person in the world. The person he had accursedly managed to forget for _years_.

Pennywise had gotten its last laugh...making him sit and watch as Richie’s sanity crumbled away.

Eddie _had_ saved Richie, but at what cost?

  
Eddie squeezed his eyes shut. Tears collected on his lashes and dripped thickly down onto the makeshift bandages that settled over Richie’s eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Rich,” Eddie sobbed. “I’m so, so sorry...”

He wasn’t even sure what he was apologizing for.

For letting him down?

For allowing him to get hurt in the first place?

He didn’t know, but the apologies kept spilling from his mouth. He apologized over and over and over again like a scratched record.

Richie was laying defeatedly still, as though accepting some sort of fate that only he could comprehend. The only part of him that was moving was his face as it contorted with each dejected sob.

Bill and Mike had their arms around Beverly, whose tears were falling freely down her face as she covered her mouth and watched the heartbreaking display. Ben had abandoned his attempt at separating Eddie from Richie, moving back to stand alongside Stan; both held troubled, saddened expressions.

They all felt helpless as they watched. So, so helpless.

More of Eddie’s tears dropped onto Richie’s face...though this time avoiding the bandaging and hitting his skin.

The warm droplets slipped down Richie's cheeks, acting as though they were his own.

Richie continued sniffling, but his face had suddenly smoothed out.

Eddie was unable to see the change as his eyes were still squeezed tight shut, the tears continuing to drop onto Richie’s skin like warm rain. Richie tasted salt as a couple of the tears fell onto his lips.

Eddie was crying real tears. He could _feel_ them. He could taste them.

This was real.

“E-Eddie?” Richie croaked.

Eddie’s breath caught in his throat and his eyes flew open.

“Eddie?” Richie questioned again, sounding like his mental state was dangerously close to teetering off the edge again. “Eddie...”

“Yes! Yes, Rich, I’m here,” Eddie blurted. “It’s me, Rich, it’s me!”

Richie’s mouth opened and closed like a fish on dry land. He looked as though he wasn’t sure whether he dared to really believe that this was the real Eddie.

“Y-you’re...you’re here?” Richie murmured, voice still thick with emotion. “You’re real?”

"Yeah, Rich. I'm real. It's really me,” Eddie breathily laughed out in relief, tears still flowing.

Each drop that hit his face seemed to bring Richie further and further back down to earth with them, and Eddie was sure it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Richie moved as though to sit up, only to let out a shout of pain as the movement jarred his injuries.

“Hey, hey, woah...easy, easy...” Eddie said, pressing his hand to Richie’s chest.

“Take it easy,” Bill said, charging forward so he could press a bit on Richie's shoulder. “You’re hurt pretty bad there, bud.”

Richie tried his best to breathe through the pain that seemed to be igniting every muscle and bone in his body.

His right leg was throbbing horribly and his ribs were screaming at him. His arms and chest were littered with deep, sharp pains that gnawed into his muscles.

His eyes felt like they were on fire. They were burning and pulsating with every single beat of his heart.

Eddie winced as he noticed fresh blood soak through some of the makeshift bandages.

After a few moments, Richie swallowed dryly and tentatively asked, “B-Bill?”

Bill smiled.

”Yeah, yeah it’s me,” he answered in a relieved sigh. “You making fun of my stutter, R-R-Rich?”

Richie exhaled sharply, and Bill couldn’t tell if it was a laugh or not.

“What happened?” Richie croaked. “Is...is everyone...is everyone okay?”

Beverly knelt down and brushed some hair from his forehead.

“We’re okay, Rich. We’re all okay,” Mike assured, settling on his knees as well.

“You, however, are not,” Stanley stated plainly.

Richie huffed out a clear laugh at that. Leave it to Stan to point out the obvious shit in a situation. The laugh cut off abruptly, though, as the movement jostled his injuries again.

Stanley was quick to put his hand on Richie’s shoulder, avoiding the areas that were mottled with Pennywise’s teeth marks.

“How...h-how bad?” Richie puffed out.

The six friends hesitated, unsure how much information they should actually divulge.

“Pretty bad,” Eddie answered after a few seconds. “But...but you'll be okay, alright? You'll be just fine.”

Richie’s lips tightened to a thin line, looking perturbed by the vague yet troubling information. Not that anyone could blame him. It was undoubtedly scary for him to be unable to see and hardly able to move...all the while not knowing what exactly was wrong with his body.

“Of course I’ll be okay. I got Doctor K on the case, don’t I?” Richie joked weakly.

Everyone shuttered out some laughter. It relieved them that Richie was able to make jokes, no matter how meek they seemed.

Though, the pain lacing his features was undeniable.

Eddie had settled to holding Richie’s hand, stroking his thumb along the back.

He could feel Richie suddenly tense up.

“Is it gone?” he asked cautiously. “D-did you guys kill it?”

“Yeah...yeah we did, honey,” Beverly murmured softly, smiling at the utter relief that washed over his features.

He let out a sharp exhale he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, then groaned as it caused his body to thrum with pain.

“We crushed that bastard’s heart,” Stanley said. “It’s officially gone this time.”

Richie smiled at that despite the hurt that was afflicting seemingly every area of his body.

“I wish I could have seen it.”

They all stiffened, but Ben was quick to cover it up, “We wish you could’ve seen it too, bud. You were with us though.”

Richie let out a debilitated version of a snort, “That’s so fucking gay.”

Ben, Bill, and Mike smiled at his attempt at a joke while Stan just rolled his eyes. Eddie wiped tears from his face and shook his head as he smiled.

“All the girls gonna have to step ‘side...’cause Benny Boy’s got the hots for the ‘ol Trashmouth,” Richie slurred as exhaustion settled further.

“Alright, Romeo, get some rest,” Beverly smiled, gently ruffling his hair. “We’ll still be here when you wake up, ‘kay?”

“M’kay,” Richie murmured tiredly.

“And hopefully next time you wake up it’ll be to us getting the hell out of here,” Stanley said.

“Just so long as you don’t leave me behind.”

“Well, the temptation is definitely there.”

The corner of Richie’s mouth quirked up a bit, “Can’t get rid of me that easily, Stan Man.”

Stan smiled, “Don’t I know it...Now go to sleep.”

Richie muttered something that sounded more like a low humming than anything actually intelligible.

He seemed to doze off, but they waited around for a couple more minutes for good measure. He let out a long, relaxed sigh...or, at least, as relaxed as he could get in that moment being incredibly injured and lain out on the cold, dirty, wet ground.

“Alright, guys, let’s get back to work, yeah?” Bill said quietly.

Everyone stood up, including Eddie, but Stanley glared him down, “I don’t think so. You're resting too, remember?”

“Stan-”

“Eds, you practically collapsed,” Ben said.

“I’m sorry, what?” Bill asked in alarm and concern.

"Stay here with Richie,” Beverly chimed in, placing a gentle hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “Someone needs to be here with him. He shouldn’t be alone when he wakes up.”

Well _that_ was just playing dirty.

Though, Eddie couldn’t deny that she was right. He nodded and eased back down on the ground. He grasped Richie’s hand in his own once more.

“If anything happens...give us a holler,” Mike said.

And with that, Eddie was left alone. He kept one hand holding Richie’s while the other stroked through his hair. Richie’s breath caught and lurched every other minute from the pain he was experiencing even in unconsciousness. Eddie desperately wished he could take it all away.

He moved his hand down to Richie’s face and cupped his strong, stubbled jaw. Richie seemed to lean into the touch.

Even though they were still trapped underground, and even though Richie was still very badly hurt, Eddie felt grateful that Richie had been able to regain consciousness and speak to them. Eddie had been so worried that he had fallen into some sort of coma or something.

Though, the question still lingered...

How had Richie figured it out? That they were all real? That Eddie was really Eddie and not just Pennywise in a mask?

Then, he decided it didn’t really matter.

All that mattered was that Richie was no longer sobbing under his touch, completely overwhelmed with fear and pain. Eddie just hoped they wouldn’t have to go through it all again when he awoke a second time.

Eddie would do it all again, though. Of course he would.

Eddie would spend the rest of his life talking Richie down and convincing him what was real if that’s what it took.

“It doesn’t matter. Whatever made you realize...whatever made you believe...” Eddie spoke softly, shaking his head. "It doesn’t matter. I’m just glad you believed me. Thanks for believing in me, Rich."

Richie mumbled something, and Eddie wondered if he was talking in his sleep, until he spoke again a bit more clearly.

“Crying...”

Eddie’s forehead wrinkled in confusion.

“You were crying,” Richie murmured, sounding half-asleep. “Damn clown wasn’t capable of that.”

Eddie let those words settle into his mind.

Shit, he was right. It had never cried. It didn’t even cry twenty-seven years ago when Beverly had stabbed it through its bulbous skull, or when they had physically beat it down. And it didn't cry hours prior, when it was backed into a corner completely at their mercy.

It didn't even cry when Bill reached into its chest and removed its beating heart.

It whined and let out wretched, ugly noises of distress...but not a single tear was shed.

“Stay w’ me,” Richie murmured tiredly.

Eddie smiled and swept unruly hair from Richie’s forehead.

“I will, Rich,” he said, sniffing noisily. “I’m staying right here. You can’t get rid of _me_ that easily either.”

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for a character asking for death  
> TW for blood
> 
> Feel free to talk to me:
> 
> [Tumblr](https://itjammy.tumblr.com)  
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/softplaidpjs) 🔞


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again! Back with a new chapter. I've been so eager to get another chapter out, I even brought my writing journal to stand in line to vote, lol.  
> Also, please forgive me if there’s any problems in this chapter. I finished proofing it while recovering from getting my wisdom teeth yanked from my head. So bear with me if there’s any errors, pls.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who has been reading and reviewing. It's very much appreciated!
> 
> **TWs in end notes**

“How the hell does this keep happening?” Stanley spat, hands on his knees and staring up at the looming blockade of rocks.

They had been working on clearing the mound of rocks for what felt like forever but, if anything, it had only become more extensive. Any time it appeared like they were making a sufficient gap, more would crumble down from above.

Even though he hadn’t spoken it aloud, Stan was worried that this would just keep happening until the entire cavern itself decided to cave in on top of them. And any time that horrifying thought popped up in his mind, he would feel incredibly suffocated and panicked.

But then he would look over at his friends working hard alongside him, brushing sweat from their faces and continuing to give each other encouraging pats on the back.

He would think about Eddie and Richie camped out a little way away. One of them injured while the other was passed out from exhaustion.

And he would also be reminded of his wife, Patty, who was still awaiting his return at their home in New Hampshire.

They were what kept him from completely collapsing in panic. They were what gave him the strength to keep going.

_“I swear, Bill.”_

They needed him.

They needed him to keep going.

And so he did.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

_Eddie was standing on a beach._

_He honestly wasn’t much of a beach person. He didn’t like being covered in sand for too long, and the thought of how immense and mysterious the ocean was freaked him out._

_Though, he thought maybe this could persuade him into trying to adapt._

_The sun was shining dazzlingly bright, causing the soft sand beneath his feet to sparkle like glitter. The water was carrying the gentlest of waves to shore._

_It was so inviting._

_He wasn’t even thinking about the germs that inhabited the blue water as he began walking toward it._

_Typically, he would be thinking about the sheer number of fish excrement that was released on the daily, and the fact that an unsettling amount of people peed in it as well. Today though? At this moment? The thought didn’t even cross his mind._

_He had never felt so relaxed and carefree._

_He stepped into the beautiful, sparkling water..._

_And a frown pulled at his face._

_The water was astoundingly warm, to the point of being unpleasantly hot... and the_ _level was rising. It was beginning to come up past his shins, up to his knees._

_Suddenly, he felt a hand slip into his._

_Richie._

_That’s right...Richie was there with him. How could he have forgotten?_

_The water was reaching his hips now. It was still strangely warm. It didn’t make sense, and it bothered him._

_Eddie smiled anyway, because Richie’s hand was in his._

_It comforted him, almost as though Richie’s hand in his was what it took to make him finally feel complete._

_He looked up at the man next to him..._

_And the smile dropped from his face as fast as a cinderblock through deep water._

_Richie was smiling back, despite the fact that his eyeballs were melting down his face like an egg yolk that had burst from its shell. Eddie stared into the dark, gaping holes of Richie’s skull. The pulpy liquid was oozing down his face and over his lips, where the smile still remained._

_Eddie wanted to scream._

_He tried pulling out of Richie’s grasp but to no avail. Richie held on with a grip like a vice._

_“Please, Richie. Let go!" he begged._

_Or at least, he tried to beg, but all that came out was a wheezing that felt all too familiar._

_Eddie needed his inhaler. Fuck, he_ needed _it. He couldn’t_ breathe.

 _Eddie felt like he was choking on air, and Richie wasn’t letting_ go.

 _He couldn’t turn away as Richie’s eyeless gaze stayed on him, smile never faltering._

_Richie’s face was paling to a sheet white._

_Eddie felt terror envelop his entire body as Richie’s teeth sharpened to long, jagged points in his mouth._

_Finally, he was able to close his eyes._

_He couldn’t stomach watching Richie transform into a monster before his very eyes. A monster that was so very familiar and far too fresh in his mind._

_He gave one last pull and broke free._

_“You said you would stay,” Richie said in a voice not quite his own; it sounded jerky and distorted and...frighteningly recognizable._

_Eddie opened his eyes._

_He was staring at himself, or a Pennywise-version of himself._

_“_ _Whats’a_ _matter, Eds?” Eddie could feel his own mouth moving in time with It. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”_

 _It broke off into maniacal, cackling laughter._

Eddie’s eyes flew open as he gave a loud, harsh gasp. He was greeted by the damp walls and dim tunnels he’d fallen asleep to.

No beach, and no clown.

Eddie peaked over just to be sure...and, sure enough, the clown was still decaying in the far corner of the cavern.

Eddie’s head collapsed back against the uncomfortable hard ground as he took deep breaths, trying to shake off the nightmare that had felt all too real.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting. Just because Pennywise was dead didn’t mean the nightmares would ever go away.

He couldn’t even remember falling asleep in the first place. It was all the more proof that his friends were right...he _had_ needed the rest.

Eddie rubbed his eyes, wincing at how sore the stab wound on his cheek felt. It hadn’t hurt this bad before. He would check it later, but for now he needed to check on Richie.

As he started to sit up, he immediately stopped and frowned in confusion.

His jeans were wet and...warm.

He touched the denim and brought his fingers close to his face to inspect.

Definitely – and thankfully – not blood.

It was urine.

Shit, he hadn’t been so scared during his nightmare that he’d pissed himself, right? That would just be embarrassing.

Just as Eddie was feeling truly mortified, though, he noticed a large puddle leading to the body that lay next to him. The urine was soaking through Richie’s jeans as his body violently jerked involuntarily.

He was convulsing.

“Richie!” Eddie leaped up. “Shit, shit, Richie!”

“Eds?!” came Bill’s voice. “Everything okay down there?”

Eddie ignored him in favor of tending to the one who needed him most in that moment.

“Okay, okay, come on, Rich...” Eddie spoke frantically as he turned Richie onto his side and cradled his head the best he could in his lap.

Drool was pooling out of Richie’s mouth and onto Eddie’s pant leg, adding onto the bodily fluid that was already soaking into the denim. He could feel the burning hot fever radiating off Richie’s skin. Sweat dripped down his face, making him appear as though he had just gotten out of a pool.

Eddie gently shushed him with each uncontrollable jerk of his body.

It didn’t take long to hear the footsteps rushing up behind them.

“What’s going on?” Mike asked.

“Oh shit, Rich,” Ben said a little breathlessly, eyes widening.

“What’s happening?” Beverly asked, starting to hold his leg down in an attempt to stop him from irritating his injuries.

“No!” Bill snapped, and Beverly quickly retracted her hands. “D-don't...don’t hold him down. It's a seizure, h-he's having a seizure."

“He-h-he's burning up. He...” Eddie stammered out. “I don’t...I-I didn’t even...”

Richie continued convulsing, and Eddie felt absolutely helpless and like _complete shit._ This had occurred while he was asleep, damn it!

“I didn’t even know he was running a fever,” Bill said.

“He wasn’t!” Eddie replied. “I checked before I...before I _fucking_ fell asleep! I-”

“Hey, hey, Eds...this isn’t your fault. Okay? It’s not,” Bill said, tearing his eyes from Richie’s miserable form.

Richie’s seizure had dwindled down to more interspaced spasms. In reality it had only lasted about three minutes, but it had felt forever. He now lay limp in Eddie’s lap, and Eddie wondered if he had passed out.

“Rich? You with me?” Eddie asked as he ran a hand through his hair, scratching at his scalp a bit.

He responded with a low, exhausted groan.

Eddie frowned heavily. He knew that it was pretty common for someone to be unable to form words immediately post-seizure, but that didn’t mean it didn’t trouble him. This was _Richie_ after all.

Stan was standing off at a fair distance, arms crossed and face lined with deep concern. Mike caught his eye and Stan shook his head slightly.

“He doesn’t look good at all,” he stated, voice low so Eddie couldn’t hear. “He got sick so fast. He...how are we supposed to deal with this-”

“I know, I know,” Mike nodded. “But it’ll be okay. We’ll get out of here soon, alright? I know we will.”

Stanley looked at him like he’d just told an incredibly tasteless joke. He didn’t know how Mike continued to feel such faith in their ability to get out of this hell hole. How could he continue to hold such strength when everything felt so _bleak?_

“What if it’s not soon enough, Mikey? I mean, you saw how those rocks...you saw how more of them just kept...”

“I know,” Mike said as Stan trailed off. “But we’ll figure it out. We will. I know it.”

“Just like you ‘knew’ the ritual would work?”

Mike’s expression fell, and Stan immediately regretted his snarky, biting words.

“I’m sorry, Mike. I’m just-”

“I get it,” Mike nodded, though his face still held hurt. “It’s hard. But, come on, man. We just killed a demon monster clown. And if we can do that...we can do anything.”

Stan stared into Mike’s eyes, and he saw real truth there. Mike truly believed they were going to get out, and Stan wanted to believe too. He really, truly did.

“When we’re together, we can do anything,” Mike continued. “Okay?”

Stan took in a shaky breath and nodded.

The hurt look on Mike’s face seemed to have dissipated, replaced instead by a comforting grin as he clapped a hand on Stan’s shoulder.

Eddie, Beverly, Bill, and Ben were talking in hushed tones, trying to come up with a plan to bring Richie’s dangerously-high fever down. The only thing they could come up with was to remove a majority of his remaining clothing.

“Rich, sweetie, we gotta get these clothes off you, okay?” Beverly said, putting a light hand on his sweat-soaked shoulder.

She was hoping for a joke of some kind...it was the perfect opportunity for one. But instead Richie just groaned into Eddie’s legs. A thick string of drool still clung to his bottom lip even as his teeth chattered with fever. His skin was horribly pale, clammy, and glistening with a sheen of sweat.

He looked absolutely terrible. It was painful to even look at him.

“M’cold,” he murmured.

“I know, Rich. You're running a really high fever. We gotta bring it down. Can you help us do that for you?” Eddie said gently, continuing to brush his fingers through his hair.

Richie whined pathetically, but nodded.

Eddie and Ben proceeded to shift Richie into a sitting position, wincing in sympathy at each noise of pain Richie let out. Even the slightest movement seemed to agitate his aching body, which was made all the worse with the fever now racking his system. He thankfully seemed to relax a bit once he was settled against Eddie’s chest.

Eddie could feel the sickly sweat soaking through Richie’s shirt and onto his own bare chest...as well as the immense heat radiating off him like a furnace. It was so _hot._ No one’s skin should _ever_ be this temperature.

Richie gave loud shouts of pain as Bill and Mike worked off his shoes and socks. They apologized the entire time, but it was clear that Richie wasn’t hearing them. His shouts of pain broke off into sobs as they situated his broken leg on the pile of discarded jackets.

Eddie placed a hand to Richie’s forehead and shushed into his ear comfortingly, gently rocking him the best way he could without hurting him. He couldn’t be sure, but he was fairly certain Richie was gathering some sort of consolation from it.

Eddie certainly hoped so, because it was all he could really do in that moment.

Bill let out a low hiss as Richie’s broken leg was now completely visible. His hands hovered over the crooked limb, as though he could somehow come up with a way to fix it right then and there. Instead, he just ended up settling a warm hand on the opposite foot. Richie shivered at the comforting heat of Bill’s hand, feeling all the more freezing now that he was clothed in only boxers and a t-shirt. Eddie made quick work of the latter piece and handed it to Beverly so she could work on ripping it to shreds...salvaging the parts that weren't soaked in blood.

After the ordeal of getting all but his boxers removed, Richie eased back weakly against Eddie’s chest. They were skin-to-skin now, and if the situation weren’t so dire, Eddie would be blushing at the sheer intimacy of it all.

This was no time to be thinking about his crush, though. Richie needed him.

“Okay, Rich...ready to lay back down?” Eddie asked, brushing sweaty hair from his forehead.

“Mmph...m’cold, Eds,” Richie repeated the complaint.

“I know, Rich. It’s the fever. You’re running a fever, remember?”

Richie’s head lolled listlessly to the side as a moaning whine escaped his throat.

“S’burn...cold...” he slurred.

Eddie’s lips tightened.

Richie was making absolutely no sense. The fever was undeniably fogging his brain. That, along with the fact that he couldn’t see just increased the disorientation.

“Th’ burning,” Richie slurred again.

Eddie decided there was no use trying to decipher what Richie was trying to say in his fever-induced haze. Instead, he opted to carefully shifting him back down to the ground.

In the meantime, Mike, Bill, Stan, and Ben had busied themselves with building a type of bed. All four had removed their shirts, jackets, sweaters...it was the only other thing they could think to do in an attempt to create some sort of cot to best keep their friend comfortable.

It was quite the ordeal shifting him over onto it. It didn’t take long at all, really, but it was still troubling. Mike was the one to scoop him up, which resulted in horrid sounds of agony that made his chest squeeze in guilt. He hated being the reason _any_ of his friends were hurting.

Finally, when Richie was settled on the makeshift cot, Eddie put Stan and Bill to work lighting matches against the shreds of t-shirt Beverly had torn up. He then plopped himself down on the ground and began removing bandages from Richie’s arms and upper body.

The wounds looked no better, but no worse. And, honestly, that was all Eddie could have hoped for. He tied new bandages onto them before moving onto the worst ones.

Eddie took a deep breath before uncovering one of the deepest lacerations on Richie’s left bicep.

He pulled the fabric free, taking notice that there was some resistance as it clung to the wound.

And what lay underneath was exactly what Eddie had feared.

A thick thread of secretion clung to the cloth as Eddie pulled it away. Even in the darkened cavern, he could see a goopy green-tinged moisture collected on the wound. The edges of the laceration were puffy and red, appearing as though they were splitting open from the pressure of the swelling.

Infection.

“That does _not_ look good,” Stanley said lowly. 

Richie had already been shivering, but a hard tremble shook through his body as Eddie removed more bandages, and in turn, revealed even more infections; the air hitting the grotesque wounds causing both a chill as well as pain.

Eddie lightly dabbed away the nasty excess moisture, causing grunts of pain to leave Richie’s throat.

Stan and Bill continued lighting matches along more strips of clothing. It was a good way to distract them from the distressing scene.

“Please s-stop,” Richie groaned feebly.

Eddie shook his head, more to himself than as an actual response to Richie. He knew he wasn’t in his right mind, and he was trying his best to ignore the painful protests, but each one sent a knife through his heart.

"Almost done, Rich,” Eddie said shakily, though he knew it sounded like a pathetic attempt at comfort.

Not that Richie was paying attention anyway.

The other Losers kept sparing glances Eddie’s way. They were honestly astounded that he was able to do this without gagging or falling apart considering this was what his nightmares were made of. Pennywise hadn’t appeared to him as a leper for nothing.

Then again, he had always behaved differently with injuries and illness when it came to the Losers. He _was their_ Dr. K, after all.

Eddie’s gaze flitted up and he caught Bill’s eye, who nodded reassuringly at him. It only provided him with a little bit of comfort, but it was enough.

Eddie always felt better whenever Big Bill showed confidence in him.

He needed that confidence in order to move onto the area he had been fearing the most.

“Okay, um...o-okay,” Eddie spoke in a low voice, trying to keep his tone even.

The wounds on Richie’s face were what he was looking forward to the least. It was one thing to have an infection on the limbs, but on the face? That was a whole different story.

The air hitting the raw flesh was harsh and biting...and an unpleasant whining hum vibrated from deep in Richie’s throat as Eddie uncovered his wounded eyes.

The shreds of Beverly’s tank top came off Richie’s eyes with a sickeningly viscous sound.

Eddie dropped the ruined cloth on the ground.

His chin lowered to his chest, a shadow crossing his face as he allowed a trembling exhale to leave his mouth.

This was bad.

So, so bad.

The green-tinged secretion was in alarming abundance on Richie’s maimed pupils and in the surrounding skin. The edges of the wounds were pulled tight and sheeny with swelling. The angry red skin that surrounded the infection contrasted against Richie’s sickly pale complexion.

The other Losers didn’t need any medical knowledge to know that this wasn’t good. Wounds were bad enough, but for them to look like that?

“W-w-what do we do, Eddie?” Bill quavered.

Eddie could feel five pairs of expectant eyes on him, but he couldn’t bring his own gaze away from Richie’s face. His teeth were chattering as his whole body shook with chills. Quivering moans passed his lips with every other breath.

“I...I don’t know,” Eddie admitted dejectedly, throat closing up with emotion. “I don’t fucking know.”

Stan and Mike looked up toward the incline as they heard the sound of more rocks crumbling down from the ceiling.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for claustrophobic elements/description  
> TW for body horror  
> TW for seizure  
> TW for graphic description of infection  
> TW for illness
> 
> Feel free to talk to me:
> 
> [Tumblr](https://itjammy.tumblr.com)  
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/softplaidpjs) 🔞


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, hi, hi there!  
> Hope everyone who celebrates it had a good Thanksgiving
> 
> So, I made a playlist for this story: 
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7MfaBomxdd0SMDoafZJRfx?si=zne1yW8eT9-z8AV2oCL1vA
> 
> Check it out!
> 
> Thank you for reading and reviewing! The support means a lot to me <3
> 
> **TWs in end notes**

Richie was floating again. Though, it didn’t feel nearly as sheltered and restful as before.

Now, his boggy surroundings were cold. Freezing, actually.

He could hear voices of the past and present. He could feel vibrations that shook the abyss all around him.

He felt like he was dying.

And yet, something kept reassuring him that everything would be okay. He wasn’t sure what it was. If it was a voice or just a feeling, but...it was there.

_“Shh, I’m here, Rich. It’s okay...”_

Yeah...everything would be okay.

“ _Settle down, you’ll hurt yourself.._..I’m here. I’m here...”

He could hear Eddie’s voice as clear as day as he emerged from the deep.

A particularly harsh chill hit his body like a bucket of cold water. It made his teeth chatter together almost painfully.

“I know you’re cold, Rich, but this will help bring your fever down. It really will.”

A warm hand was stroking his forehead while another held his hand. He knew both belonged to Eddie. He just knew.

It was something that provided the most minuscule of comfort, but to him, in a moment so bleak and horrid, it was everything.

But it wasn’t enough to keep him from once again succumbing to the timeless, endless depth he had begun to call home.

However, this time, the void was filled with a brilliant shade of jade green.

It wasn’t clear how he was able to see it, but...somehow he could.

It was familiar, and a much more comforting shade of green than what the sewers had provided. This green brought a calm nostalgia that no other color could render.

And with it came the sweet smell of fresh air that seemed to open his lungs and flow through his entire body.

  
**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

Everyone let out a collective sigh of relief as Richie fell into a deep sleep. His shaky, miserable moans momentarily ceasing.

They weren’t sure why, but the cavern had become so ridiculously freezing. So to Richie, in his fevered state, it had to feel absolutely frigid.

It was _Summer,_ and yet they might as well have been wearing parkas and snow bibs. They may be underground but it still didn’t make much sense.

The only upside to the frigid temperature was that it had the potential to bring Richie’s fever down.

Stanley gasped suddenly as he awoke from a nightmare.

Eddie peered at him over his shoulder. He wondered if the nightmare had been as horrific as his own; the image of Richie’s eyes melting from their sockets were engraved in his brain.

He didn’t ask.

Beverly spared a glance over at Richie, who had begun miserably tossing and turning in his sleep again. His shallow breathing kept getting cut off by involuntary moans.

He had already suffered two more seizures.

Beverly’s eyes burned with unshed tears as she thought about their dwindling time. About _Richie’s_ dwindling time. Because, after all, he would obviously be the first to go. He practically looked like he was already there. If he wasn't writhing and gasping for air, they undoubtedly would have had to check for a pulse.

She honestly didn’t know how much longer he was going to last at this rate.

Stanley inhaled sharply again, sitting up straight. He had dozed off again and endured yet another nightmare.

It was exhausting. To wake up from one nightmare just to be greeted by another.

Richie let out a particularly harsh moan of pain. Stanley flinched at the distressing sound. He rubbed a hand down his face and blinked rapidly.

Stanley had been trying to keep his emotions at bay for the sake of his friends and his own sanity. But it was getting way too difficult. Their situation was just so...so...

He fought the urge to clasp his hands over his ears as Richie emitted a low, long whine. Eddie gently hushed him, rubbing his thumb across his forehead over and over.

It was all becoming too much. It was _too much._

Too much... _bullshit._

Everything was _bullshit._ Their situation, the way Eddie actually thought that _anything_ he was doing could actually _help_ Richie at this point, that Patty was still waiting for him at home.

Patty.

She was probably wondering what the hell happened to him and why he hadn’t been calling.

Her face kept appearing in his mind's eye, but instead of bringing him solace, it made him ache terribly.

Shit, he missed her.

Stanley swallowed down the lump in his throat and rubbed his hands up and down his bare arms.

Something else that was bullshit? That _on top of everything else,_ it was suddenly super fucking freezing... _and_ the disgusting clown was still melting into a puddle of goo in the corner.

Stanley obviously wasn’t the only one pissed about the latter bit. Bill had been glaring at the clown’s corpse for a while now.

Beverly shivered hard. Ben tightened his arm around her and pulled her closer against his side in the hopes that his body heat would provide her with at least a little warmth. He wished that there was some wood or something, but all they had were a few matches and extra scraps of clothing.

“Why is it suddenly so _cold_ in here?” Beverly murmured.

"Just another aspect to add to the fun of our camping trip, I suppose,” Ben said in a weak attempt at humor.

It didn’t work. No one laughed or so much as flashed a smile.

“I just wish there was some way to start a fire in this fucking place,” Stan spat as he continued to rub his hands along his arms. 

Bill’s face became deeply thoughtful. He looked over at the goopy clown corpse, then he brought his knees up and glanced over at Stan.

“Think demon space clowns are flammable?”

Everyone looked up, surprise and disbelief on their faces.

“What?” Ben laughed out.

It was disgusting work.

Pennywise’s body left behind a thick, sticky puddle that resembled melted caulking and chewed gum.

Eddie snatched up the bits of discarded bandaging he had removed from Richie’s wounds and placed them on top of the corpse. Then, he lit the crude pile with the last few remaining matches.

And after a few minutes they were sitting around the slowly-burning body of the dead clown...half-naked, looking _and_ smelling like absolute shit, but at least the clown was out of the corner...and they were fairly warmer.

Silver linings.

“Well, this is disturbing,” Stanley stated.

Bill actually chuckled a bit and shrugged, "Hey, it worked. I was tired of looking at the damn thing anyway."

Bill's eyes had lit up with the fire. He looked pleased as punch, gazing upon Pennywise's burning body. Not that anyone could blame him, let alone judge him for it.

“Here, here,” Ben said, holding up an imaginary glass.

Beverly smiled at him. “Man, am I excited to get a hard drink after we get out of here.”

“ _If_ we get out of here,” Stanley said grimly.

“Stan,” Bill warned.

Stanley rolled his eyes to the murky ceiling then looked off to the side. He bit his lip.

“Sorry,” he said.

With their situation appearing more dreary by the minute, they couldn’t really blame him. There was a reason the damn sewers weren’t letting them leave. There was a _reason._ They just weren't sure what it was.

Though, they feared this was one last way for Pennywise to torture them. That, somehow, It had managed to create one last bit of abuse, even in death.

They feared that this place was meant to serve as their tomb.

“We’ll get out Stan the Man,” Mike said, reaching over and planting a firm hand on his shoulder, shaking it a bit.

Stanley looked over at him. He returned the gesture by placing his hand on Mike’s.

He no longer believed his words though. He couldn’t.

Instead, Stanley firmly believed they were going to die there. He wasn’t going to be able to return to Patty. She was never going to know what happened to him. She wouldn’t know...because he would be decaying deep underground in the sewers of Derry. A place he absolutely detested.

Stanley could feel his eyes burn. 

He missed Patty. He missed his house. He missed the damn bird puzzle he never got to finish. He missed...everything.

Suddenly a hand slipped into each of Stanley’s own.

He looked up on either side to see Mike and Beverly. They were both giving him sad smiles. And it was then that he realized...

They didn’t believe they were getting out of there anymore either. They too had lost any faith of escaping.

The only silver lining was that they were in this together.

He wasn’t going to have to go through this alone. He was going to be with his friends. His best friends.

Stanley gripped their hands tightly.

Richie suddenly let out a loud groan and tossed his head to the side. And after a few seconds, they realized he was murmuring something.

"Richie?" Eddie questioned.

Bill went over and put his hand on his friend's head, “Rich? What’s going on, bud?”

But of course he didn't answer. He hadn't been responsive for hours.

Eddie began to pet at his hair, combing his fingers through the greasy, dirty strands. The brunette mop had become even more tangled from all the fevered thrashing he had been doing, which was made even more evident as Eddie's fingers got caught in a particularly tough knot.

“Move, m-moving...” Richie murmured after a few minutes.

Bill and Eddie furrowed their eyebrows in confusion.

“Moving...m-moving ev’where,” Richie practically whined, his teeth still chattering together as he spoke.

“What’s he talking about?” Ben asked, scooting closer.

“Why’s everyth-thing moving, E-Eddie?” Richie slurred, tossing his head to the side opposite Eddie.

“Nothing’s moving, Rich,” Eddie said, trying to make his voice as calming as possible.

Richie hands clenched into fists, as though he were trying to hold on to something for dear life.

“Honey, we’re fine. Nothing’s happening,” Beverly said gently, moving to his side.

“No!” Richie shouted loudly. “Something-something is happening! We’re-”

“Richie, Richie! Stop moving! Nothing’s happening. Nothing!” Bill scolded, trying to get him to stop thrashing.

“We’re m-moving, Bill,” Richie whimpered, desperately trying to get them to understand. He needed them to _know._ Something was about to happen...something _was_ happening. They needed to know! They needed to- “Moving...we’re m-moving. W-we're...”

The tone made Bill's heart clench. He bit his lip, unsure of what to do. He just kept his hands planted on his shoulders, holding him down gently yet firmly so he wouldn't exacerbate his injuries.

“Moving...w-we’re m-moving...we..."

Richie repeated those words over, and over, and over again...until finally they became no more than a mutter, then a whisper, until eventually they stopped completely as he slipped back into unconsciousness.

Everyone let out a collective breath of relief as Richie passed out again.

Stanley squeezed his eyes shut and tried to steady his breathing and heavily beating heart.

This wasn’t right. This wasn’t how things were supposed to be.

Richie was one of his dearest friends, he wasn't supposed to be lying there, blind, sick, and dying in the sewers. This was someone he had known since he was a kid. Never mind the years they had forgotten each other. That didn’t matter.

Stanley looked up at the others, the people he also held dear. They barged their way back into his heart as though they’d never left. His first night back in Derry, at the Jade of the Orient, he couldn’t believe his eyes as he was met with the faces of his best friends again. They were faces that were so very important to him, yet he had forgotten them. How could he have forgotten them?

 _Them._ Of all people.

These were the greatest people he’d ever known.

His friends. The Losers.

And now they sat with him in the sewers beneath the very town that tormented them, looking so very exhausted and covered in every filth imaginable.

“No," Stanley stated suddenly.

Beverly, Ben, Bill, Mike, and Eddie looked up at him.

“No. This isn’t it. Screw that,” Stan continued angrily.

He stood up and marched up the incline without another word.

Bill and Mike looked at each other and smiled, finding hope in Stanley’s sudden determination. They both stood up and followed.

Stanley was right. This wasn’t it.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

Sweat dripped down their bodies as they worked once again to clear their only way of escape. The blockade was still immensely daunting, but as they worked and worked and worked, a sizable dent actually began to appear. It was no longer looking like a false gateway. For the first time in what felt like _forever,_ they were starting to feel hope. Their exit was actually starting to look _promising_.

It filled them with a fresh sense of purpose and confidence that what they were doing was _actually_ making a difference.

It was becoming all the more clear that...maybe they would make it out after all. Just maybe.

Newfound energy surged through their bodies as they lifted rock, after rock, after rock...suddenly feeling rejuvenated as their escape became all the more apparent.

Just as Bill bent down to pick up another large rock, something cold dropped onto his back. He jumped and stood up straight. He felt around on his back, but could only feel his own sweat. Neither Stanley or Mike seemed to notice as he remained stalled.

He looked up at the ceiling of the cavern, squinting up into the darkness despite not even being sure of what he was looking for.

After a few seconds, a fat drop of water fell down from onto his head. He startled as the coldness splattered on his skin.

“Bill?” Mike asked. “What’s wrong?”

Bill brought a hand up and wiped at the foreign water with his fingers. He studied it on his fingertips, as though ensuring that it was indeed there and not a figment of his imagination.

“Bill?” Mike asked again.

Stanley had stopped working to stare at his friend as well.

“Water,” Bill stated.

“What?” Stanley asked, straightening up and moving closer.

“It’s water,” Bill repeated, looking up at the ceiling again.

Stanley opened his mouth to say something else when a gust of wind blew through the cavern, cooling and drying the sweat from their bodies.

It was like an instantaneous stormwind that seemed to blow straight through them. They could feel it penetrate their muscle, their bones, their very souls...like a ghost or a phantom passing through their bodies.

It sent a chill down their spines.

And then, as suddenly as it had begun, it disappeared, giving a haunting whistle as it dissipated throughout the cavern.

“What. The hell. Was that?” Stanley stated.

The breeze had left behind a faint scent that was both unexpected and...nostalgic.

It smelled of woods and quarry water.

“You guys smell that?” Mike asked.

“Yeah...” Stanley answered nervously.

“Smells like...”

“Quarry,” Bill concluded.

The three men looked at each other.

Was this one last trick from Pennywise? It couldn't be. It was dead. They had killed it. They had _felt_ it die. Together.

"It's dead," Mike said, reading their thoughts. "This is something else."

"What else could it be, Mikey?" Bill asked.

Mike was going to say he didn't know. That he hadn't a clue what was going on, but the familiar sound of crumbling rocks sounded from behind them...and it sent all their hearts plummeting to their feet.

No, no, no, _no..._

They had made so much progress on their escape. It couldn’t begin to close up now! Not now...

But as they turned around, they weren’t greeted with the sight of more rocks falling _onto_ the pile, but rather crumbling _away._

Bill shuffled out of the way as rocks tumbled from the pile and rolled down the incline. They continued to crumble away until a large hole was gaping at them, somehow being held open by something far more mysterious than gravity. The hole wasn’t nearly big enough to crawl through, but it was enough to peer through to the other side.

Stanley bent down to look through.

“Do you see anything Stan Man?” Mike asked.

“Not sure,” he answered, straightening his glasses and squinting.

There was a shadow. It wasn’t human-shaped...in fact, he couldn't tell _what_ it was shaped like. But it was moving. It was moving _towards them._

Slowly.

“Something’s moving.”

“Some _thing_?” Bill and Mike asked.

"Crawling.”

Bill and Mike looked at each other in unease.

“It kinda looks like...like a...”

Stanley’s words dwindled off and Bill became impatient.

“A _what_ , Stan?”

Stanley straightened up and looked at them, confusion in his eyes.

“A turtle.”

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

Beverly had begun to doze off. Appreciating the little bit of warmth from the dying heat of the fire and from Ben’s arm around her.

The clown’s corpse had burned its way down to a smoldering pile. It was only a matter of time before it went out completely.

She had been feeling weird ever since they started the fire. It was a type of perturbing itch that rested deep in her gut and chest. She didn't speak on it. She just tried to ignore it, chalking it up to her anxieties reacting to the shittiness of their current situation.

Something sounded in the quiet, and Beverly perked up a bit off Ben's shoulder.

It had sounded like...like water splashing.

And children laughing.

She strained her ears, trying to listen past the faint sound of Bill, Stan, and Mike moving rocks at the top of the incline.

Just as she thought she must have been dreaming, she heard a familiar voice.

It belonged to a child and it sounded like a distant memory...

_"What the hell was that?”_

It sounded like Eddie...but a younger version.

She heard more splashing, combined with young voices shouting.

A calmer voice followed...

_“It’s a turtle.”_

Beverly gasped at the sound of a young Bill’s voice.

She sat up completely off Ben’s shoulder and looked around.

“What’s wrong?” Ben asked.

Eddie looked at her in equal confusion.

“I...I heard...” Beverly paused to listen again, but heard nothing. No voices from her past. No water splashing. Nothing. "Did you not hear it?”

“Hear what?” Eddie asked.

The croaking manner of Eddie's voice made Beverly immediately forget about her current confusion and look over at him in concern.

Beverly knew she didn't look much better, but Eddie looked like _complete_ shit. His skin was pale, and he looked tired and sick.

“Oh, honey, you don’t look so good,” she said before she could think twice about it.

Eddie huffed out a puff of air that could have been taken for a laugh, “Thanks.”

Both Ben and Beverly noticed as he winced and lightly touched at the stained bandaging on his cheek. He had been working so hard to help Richie that he had clearly been neglecting his own needs.

“When’s the last time you check that, Eds?” Ben asked.

Eddie looked mockingly thoughtful, “Let’s see, today is Tuesday...”

Ben gave a tired chuckle. Beverly emerged from his arms and crawled toward Eddie.

She tentatively reached up for the bandage, and when Eddie didn't pull away she took that as an invitation to keep going. He allowed her to gingerly peel away the old, worn bandage to reveal the angry, infected wound underneath.

Eddie blinked hard and opened his mouth wide, flexing his jaw. He winced as the action gave a painful pull to the wound. He didn’t need to see it to know how bad it looked.

Beverly hissed in sympathy.

He...didn’t need to hear that either. He knew. Hell, he could _feel_ it. It was throbbing against his skull and making his jaw and ear pulsate and ache.

“Sweetie, this doesn’t-”

“I know,” Eddie closed his eyes.

Beverly pressed a hand to his forehead, and he leaned into the touch without even realizing it.

“And you're running a fever,” Beverly whispered more to herself than anyone else.

Eddie almost whined as she pulled her hand away.

“What do we do?” Ben murmured, as though Eddie couldn’t hear him.

Eddie _could_ hear him, but everything was beginning to sound muffled.

“I don’t know. I guess first thing’s first is to apply a new bandage. Maybe-”

“No,” Eddie grunted, opening his eyes.

When did his eyelids get so heavy?

“We need to save those for...save those for Richie.”

“Eddie, you need help too,” Beverly said.

“It’s-”

All of a sudden, a cold wetness hit Eddie’s legs, causing him to emerge more alert from his fever-fogged brain.

Beverly looked down in surprise as well.

A steady stream of water was spilling down the incline, forming a puddle underneath them.

Ben shot to his feet, “What the-”

Eddie tried to stand as well but felt himself wobble. Beverly took his elbow and supported him as they both stood together.

“What’s going on?” she asked, the worry in her voice dwindling on panic.

“I-I don’t-” Ben started, only to be interrupted as water began raining down densely from above.

And suddenly they were in a torrential downpour.

How the hell was it _raining_ in _a cave_?

“What the-“ Beverly started but was interrupted when Eddie shouted, “Watch out!”

Before she could even comprehend what was going on, she was colliding with the cavern wall. Her face hit hard against the cold, wet surface. It was undoubtedly going to leave a bruise, but that was the least of her worries.

Because a large rock tumbled down the incline, barging through right where she had been standing.

It landed on the burnt-out, soaked fire, completely squashing and disintegrating Pennywise’s remains before tumbling to a complete stop at the end of the cavern.

Ben’s eyes widened at what had just occurred. With the size and speed of that rock, if Eddie hadn’t tackled Beverly out of the way, she would have undoubtedly suffered broken bones.

Or worse.

Beverly was shaking a bit with shock, but snapped out of it as she heard more rocks crumbling down the incline.

“Ben look out!” she shouted.

Ben leaped across the opening, pulling Richie’s rag doll body with him. He tucked the man against his chest as he rolled the both of them out of the way of the rolling rocks.

The avalanche was unrelenting. Heavy rock after heavy rock plummeted down the incline at death-inducing speeds, colliding hard into the wall at the end of the cavern.

The rumble of the rocks vibrated throughout the entire cavern, threatening to shake the four of them from the safety of the wall they had plastered themselves to.

Ben stayed lying on the ground, hand secured on the top of Richie’s head, his unconscious body sandwiched between himself and the cavern wall. Ben tucked his head and closed his eyes, trying his hardest to keep both he and Richie’s bodies pressed as close as possible to the wall.

Eddie and Beverly stayed pressed as flat as possible as well as the rocks continued pummeling down the incline. They could feel some of the rubble knick against the back of their legs and ankles. One grazed Eddie’s ankle hard enough to draw blood and knock him almost completely down. He gave a shout of surprise and pain but immediately straightened and grounded himself again with the help of Beverly.

It was becoming increasingly difficult as the mysterious rain continued falling down, making the walls and floor slippery and nearly impossible to cling to. Beverly slipped a couple of times, and Eddie would have to reach out blindly to grab onto any part of her and push as hard as he could, helping her press her body tighter against the walls.

They weren't sure how long they stayed pressed against the slimy cavern walls, but finally, the tumbling rocks dwindled to nothing but a few straggling pebbles.

Beverly, Eddie, and Ben opened their eyes. They listened for the sound of any other heavy rocks, but heard nothing. The rockslide was over.

The rain, however, started coming down even harder.

They dared to ease up off the wall. Ben tentatively brought himself away from Richie and stood up.

“Everyone okay?” Ben asked loudly over the heavy rainfall.

“I-I think so,” Beverly replied.

Eddie immediately went over to Richie’s still form on the ground as Ben and Beverly began stumbling over the wet, crumbled rocks.

“Bill!”

“Mike! Stan!”

Beverly and Ben called out as loud as they could.

Eddie didn’t pay any attention to them as he crawled through the water and placed a hand on Richie’s chest. He couldn’t tell if there was still a heartbeat. He couldn’t tell if the rise and fall of his chest was still present. He couldn't tell if...if he was even still alive.

“Richie, Rich…” Eddie slapped at his face a bit, but received no response.

No moan, no groan...not even a twitch. Nothing.

He needed Richie to respond in some way to _something..._ because he hadn't even woken up when Ben tackled him, nor was he waking up as the freezing rain continued pouring down onto his bare skin.

Had Richie slipped into a coma? Or worse, had he died and no one had even noticed?

The thought made Eddie feel sick, in a completely different way than how he had already been feeling from his infection-induced fever.

He pressed his fingers against Richie's neck to feel for a pulse, but all he could feel was the torrential rain beating down and his own thundering heart and hammering head.

Beverly and Ben continued calling out for their friends until, finally, the sound of stumbling, splashing footsteps could be heard. Soon enough they saw Mike, Bill, and Stanley hurrying clumsily down the incline, slipping and sliding the entire way. Stanley had a hand pressed to his head where a large gash was leaking enough blood to compete with the downpour of water.

“You guys okay?” Mike asked urgently as he helped Stanley sit down against the wall.

“We’re fine, I-I think…what happened?” Ben asked.

“We were clearing rock, and th-then there was water, and a turtle, and-” Bill yammered.

“A _turtle?_ ” Ben repeated.

“And-and then the rocks just started _falling_ and- Stan…Stanley got knocked across the head with a big one and then we just…we just _dove_ against the wall and tried to make ourselves as flat as possible," Bill concluded before leaning over with his hands on his knees, clearly shaken up.

"So-so is the way clear then? Can we make it through?" Ben sounded hopeful, but Mike's face became solemn.

"No, Benny, it's...the way sealed itself up with a whole new batch of rocks."

They were silent as the implication of Mike's words pierced them harsher than any sharp rock could.

"There...there's no way out."

Beverly flung herself around Ben's neck. He wrapped his arms around her and they embraced tightly, both trying to give each other the comfort they desperately needed. Stanley's head flopped down defeatedly, and he allowed a sniveling sigh to escape. He had already been aware of this sobering fact, but actually hearing it leave Mike's mouth brought on a whole new sense of dread.

They were finished. There was nothing else they could do. No more hoping. No more fighting.

This was it.

Eddie had heard the words, but they didn't really register in his brain. He was still too fixated on Richie's deathly still form.

“Richie, Richie...” Eddie spoke as he shook him.

Richie's head flopped limply to the side. As though there were no life left in his body.

He was pale. So, so pale.

And the water was steadily rising, coming up past Richie's ears.

“No, no, no, no,” Eddie whimpered, taking Richie’s chin and turning his face skyward so his nose and mouth wouldn’t become submerged in the water just yet.

No, that couldn't happen. Not yet.

He wasn't ready.

“Eddie?” Stanley spoke tentatively.

Eddie ignored him, keeping his eyes locked on Richie’s lifeless face.

He didn’t even notice as Stanley started crying himself, seeming to understand the implication behind Eddie’s body language and silence.

Richie was nearly gone, if not entirely.

And the rest of them weren’t far behind.

The water was rising at an alarming rate. It wouldn’t be long until they were all underwater.

But Richie would be the first.

Richie's body would be the first to become submerged in the mysterious water.

Eddie didn’t know where the water was coming from, or how it was even raining, but he wasn’t about to let Richie _drown in it._

Eddie's own dehydrated, sick body didn’t want to cooperate as he shifted Richie up into a slumped sitting position, resting him partially on his lap and against his chest. Richie was dead weight against him, like some kind of big doll. And Eddie continued to hang on so he wouldn't slip away.

He had only just remembered Richie a few days ago, and yet he had already remembered that he was his favorite person in the entire world. Over the past few days, it had all come rushing back. The memories of the two of them sneaking into each others' bedrooms at night, talking animatedly for hours on end about everything and nothing at all, lounging in the club house hammock and arguing about shit that didn't matter...it was all back. The memories had been returned to him. And Eddie was so beyond pissed that he had been forced to forget it at all.

Even amidst the fear of facing Pennywise again, Eddie had begun thinking of a life beyond. A life where Pennywise was dead and they could just...be. Where they could all live a life _together_ with no fear, no forgetting…

Ben would have Beverly and Eddie would have…

Eddie let out a sob.

It wasn’t fair.

It _wasn't_ fucking _fair._

Eddie brought a hand up and managed to undo the makeshift bandage on Richie’s head, allowing it to slip off his face and into the pooling water below.

Even past the gunk and the gore, it was still Richie. This was still _Richie_ he was holding in his arms. Alive, dead, or somewhere in between…

Everything that could have been, everything he’d ever wanted…lay right there in his arms. And he wasn’t about to let it go. Not even in his last, fleeting moments on Earth.

Eddie’s face contorted in pain and anguish.

It _wasn’t fair._

He began sobbing even harder. He sobbed so hard it hurt.

He wept for everything. For Richie’s fate, for his friends', for _his own._ All of it.

The cold water finally rose up over his own waist. He could feel it steadily creeping up his rib cage. Too fast. It was coming too fast.

No, no…he wasn’t ready.

He wasn’t ready for this.

Eddie felt a hand slip into his own.

He looked up with red, tear-filled eyes that shined with all the emotion he couldn't even begin to put into words.

It was Bill, looking at him as tears fell from his own eyes. He sat down in the water next to Eddie.

Eddie gave a harsh sob and gripped Bill’s hand tighter. Bill mustered up a smile, albeit sad and defeated.

_It’s okay._

Beverly and Ben grabbed hands. Mike helped Stanley over, easing him down to sit in between Beverly and Eddie. Then he went and grabbed Ben and Bill’s hands.

Beverly looked at Stan and held her hand out, palm up, inviting him to take it. Stanley sobbed as he grabbed on.

Then, Stan slowly turned his head and reached for Richie, taking his friend's slack hand in his own and gripping it tightly.

It wasn’t okay, but at least they were all together. They were going to go through this together.

Even as their clasped hands became immersed under the icy water, they could feel the sheer outpouring of love they felt for each other.

The water was climbing its way up Richie’s slumped form. There was no way around it. He was going to go under first.

They were going to have to watch their friend be submerged in the water. They were going to have to fucking _watch_ as he…

Eddie squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face once more in Richie’s hair. He pressed a hard kiss to his head, trying to put as much meaning into it as he could. All the words he could never say, all the years they had lost.

_It’s okay. It’s okay._

“It’s okay. It’s okay, Richie,” Eddie said wetly. “It’ll all be over soon.”

Bill squeezed Eddie's hand.

Eddie kissed Richie’s head over and over again before pressing his cheek into his hair and closing his eyes.

“I love you guys,” Bill said with such heartfelt sincerity. “I love you guys so much. I wish we hadn’t missed those twenty-seven years.”

Mike clasped Bill and Ben’s hands harder, bringing warmth even as they sat under the cold water.

“But I’m glad Mike called us back. I’m happy I got t-t-to see all of you again. To remember,” Bill continued, voice raw with emotion as tears rolled down his face. “I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

“We love you too, Bill,” Beverly choked out.

Richie had slumped further in Eddie's lap. His dead weight combined with Eddie's ever-weakening body proving just how much more difficult it was to keep the both of them above the water.

The water was moving up past Richie’s chin, dancing along his bottom lip like some sort of cruel tease for what was to come. And yet, Eddie kept his hold on Richie's body. He was going to hold on for as long as possible. Even as the inevitable happened.

Richie's hair swayed and swirled in the crystal clear water as his head finally became submerged.

And everyone sobbed as Eddie sank down with him...refusing to let go.

Eddie allowed precious breath to leave his lungs, coming out in the form of bubbles from his nostrils and past his lips. Richie’s hair danced along his face, tickling his skin.

He knew his friends still remained above water, but that didn’t matter. He was staying with Richie until his lungs couldn’t possibly take anymore. He was going to stay under the water with Richie until his lungs felt like they were on fire with the desperate need for oxygen.

He would stay under until his vision tunneled and he lost consciousness.

He would stay under the water until it all went black.

More bubbles slipped past his lips as he opened his eyes to look at Richie's face one last time.

Richie’s face was just as slack as before. His mouth was open, allowing bubbles to crawl out and water to go in.

Stanley’s hand was still clasped in Richie’s as he unconsciously drowned in the frigid water.

At least Richie wasn't alone. They were here with him. _He_ was here with him.

And he wasn't going anywhere.

Eddie pressed a kiss to Richie’s forehead.

He could hear the sound of two more bodies joining them underwater. He spared a glance over to see Beverly and Ben had gone under together. They couldn't take the waiting.

After all, why wait for the inevitable, right?

The three of them made eye contact, looking at each other one last time.

Eddie nodded at them before pressing his forehead to Richie's and closing his eyes. He tried his best to ignore the aching of his lungs as he started to really feel the pressure of oxygen deprivation.

Shit, his lungs were on _fire._

He could do this though. He _had_ to. He couldn't leave Richie alone. He couldn't.

And he wouldn't.

Ben and Beverly shared one last kiss under the water, choosing that as their last act before allowing the water to snuff their lives out. The only thing they could hope for was that they would go at the same time, neither having to suffer longer than the other.

Three more bodies sank under the water in a churn of bubbles. Stanley, Mike, and Bill had decided to join them.

Eddie was starting to choke as he tried to resist his lungs' unyielding urge to breathe in. His lungs were screaming at him, demanding that he rise above the water and breathe.

The last of his bubbles burst from his mouth as an odd sort of glow started to shine past his eyelids.

That wasn’t...he wasn’t already dead, right?

No way it was that quick. Or easy.

Eddie opened his eyes, and realized that the glow was coming from off to the side.

He turned his head to see a rather large turtle lying in the middle of the Loser circle.

What the fuck?

Eddie assumed the others could see it too, but he couldn’t bring his own eyes away from the stare of the turtle to be sure.

It blinked slowly up at him with bright, amethyst eyes and an expression that was almost human. Its mossy shell was emitting a warm glow as three sets of lights spun on its top. The lights seemed to be getting brighter by the second.

Deadlights.

Even in his drowning state Eddie recognized them for what they were. Yet, they weren't harsh and threatening like Pennywise's were. Instead, they were emitting a sense of calm and reassurance. The comforting feeling radiated throughout the Loser circle.

_It’s okay._

The only thing that brought Eddie’s attention away from the creature was Richie violently twitching and gasping in, only to be met with a mouthful of water instead of air.

He only saw Richie’s lucid expression for a split second before a brilliant light brighter than any camera flash burst through the cavern.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

Water was rushing past them at the speed of light. They couldn't breathe, couldn't see...couldn't hear _anything_ except for the roar of the water. It felt like getting tumbled by a large ocean wave over, and over, and over, and over again.

And then, oh so suddenly, they were resting on a soggy bed of silt and sand. Fish wildly swam away in fear as seven humans suddenly appeared in their habitat in a burst of bubbles.

Eddie opened his eyes.

He could see the sun.

It shined through the emerald water, hitting his face with a warmth he believed he’d never get the pleasure of feeling again. He could even feel it through the cold water that was chilling him to the bone.

It was cold, but it felt nice. Because this wasn’t sewer water. This was...this was the...

He felt a hand grip him from under the armpit and yank him up.

Eddie immediately closed his eyes as he broke through the surface of the water; the raw, unfiltered sunlight hitting his pupils almost painfully. He coughed and sputtered as he breathed in the oxygen he so desperately needed.

The air smelled fresh and sweet. He was no longer breathing in the rank scent of gray water and damp sewer cavern.

This was what _air_ smelled like. It was glorious and quite possibly the sweetest thing to ever grace his senses.

Eddie opened his eyes, squinting at his surroundings.

This was the...they were at the quarry.

They had been sent to the fucking quarry. Or...sent? Were they sent? How? By who? How the...how in the hell did they get here?

Eddie’s head gave a painful throb.

Bill was still holding him up, helping him to tread water in his sick, weakened state.

"Eddie! Eddie!"

He suddenly realized that Bill was calling his name. His senses were finally returning to him.

He could hear. He could breathe. He could see.

He was _alive_.

"Eddie! You okay?"

His throat hurt and his windpipe felt bruised, but he continued to breathe in breath after ragged breath until he could finally respond.

"Y-yeah," he rasped. "Yeah, I'm good, Bill."

They needed to get to shore. Eddie tried his best to swim, but found himself being half-dragged by Bill.

Eddie was trying his best to help, he really, really was...but his limbs felt like they didn’t even belong to him anymore.

Beverly and Ben were helping Stanley swim as well. His head was bleeding freely again, leaving a trail of red through the water.

Richie was...

Wait a minute, where was Richie? Had Richie made it out?

“Yeah, Eds, it’s okay,” Bill gasped, struggling to swim and talk at the same time. “Mikey’s got him.”

It was then that Eddie noticed Mike swimming a fair distance ahead, Richie draped over his back. His arms were moving with a furious strength through the water, a determined expression covering his face as he kept his eyes on the prize.

The prize being the shore just a few yards away.

They were so close.

So, so close.

They had made it...by means and reasons completely unknown to them, but they had made it.

Just a little further...

Just...a little...

Mike got to dry land first, flinging Richie onto shore as though he weighed nothing at all.

Everyone else followed a couple minutes behind. Beverly and Ben helped Stanley out of the water, assisting him in sitting against a fallen tree. Bill crawled up on shore and collapsed on his back, face turned up at the sky and trying to catch his breath. Eddie's legs felt too much like jelly to provide him any support, so he started crawling.

Because he immediately recognized what Mike was doing. His arms were stalk straight as he performed chest compressions on Richie

Eddie crawled as fast as he could.

Because Richie wasn’t breathing.

He _wasn’t breathing._

His lips were a ghastly shade of indigo, and they contrasted harshly against his pale skin.

Mike plugged Richie’s nose and covered his lips with his own, breathing as much into his lungs as he could. Richie’s chest rose and fell with the forced breath, but it wasn’t enough. He still wasn't waking up.

Why wasn’t he waking up? They had made it out. They had survived.

Richie needed to be part of that. He needed to _live._

“Richie, Richie, please,” Eddie whimpered.

Mike began the chest compressions again.

“Come on, man,” Mike growled. “Come on, Richie, come on!”

He leaned down again and began breathing into his friend's open mouth again.

Once again, Richie’s chest rose and fell.

Rose and fell.

Yet, his face remained slack.

“Richie, please, we...we made it, man, we...” Eddie wept brokenly. “We killed a fucking clown, we...we can _live_ now, Richie. Please...”

The others noticed what was going on and made their way over, but stayed at a distance so Mike could continue to work on getting Richie breathing again.

Ben kept a secure arm around Beverly. They pressed further against each other each time Mike's breath failed to bring Richie back to them.

Stanley managed to stand up from his slumped position and trudge over to lean against Bill’s side. Bill slipped an arm underneath him as a support.

A sharp crack was heard as Richie’s sternum fractured under the repetitive pressure of Mike's hands.

Mike began to cry.

Tears leaked from his eyes as he desperately tried to save his friend’s life...but it wasn't working. _Why wasn't it working, damn it?_

His arms were exhausted... _he_ was exhausted. His body was running solely on fumes, but he couldn’t give up.

He wouldn’t stop until Richie was breathing again.

He _wouldn’t._

Mike leaned down and breathed into Richie’s mouth again.

Once.

Twice.

He sat back up to press down on his chest again.

One, two, three, four...

More cracks were heard as Richie’s sternum was put through even more abuse. A couple of ribs fractured as the compressions continued.

Mike could feel the damaged bones move and shift underneath his hands.

Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty.

Mike plugged Richie’s nose once more and blew two heaving breaths down his throat and into his lungs.

At the second breath, warm water sprayed up into Mike's mouth as Richie came back to life. Mike quickly sat back as the offending water shot up and out of Richie's lungs like a broken fountain.

“There he is, buddy!” Eddie laughed out, tears flowing from his eyes.

Mike laughed wetly with emotion as he wiped at his own mouth with the back of his hand. He rolled Richie over so the water could properly drain from his body, his face contorting with life as he struggled to breathe.

_Life._

Everyone collectively exhaled. 

Richie grotesquely choked and gasped back to life. And it was music to their ears.

“There we go, Rich. There we go, bud,” Mike said breathlessly, patting his back.

Water was spilling from Richie's nostrils like a faucet as he coughed painfully hard, his lungs fighting to expel the offending water from his body. Harsh, heaving gags broke through between each cough, an impossible amount of water spewing past his lips and onto the ground.

“There we go,” Eddie said, rubbing Richie’s arm the best he could. “Let it out, Rich. That’s it. Good...”

Richie continued coughing up water for a full five minutes as Eddie rubbed his arm and Mike kept a hand on his back.

Sometime amidst Richie’s hacking, Bill, Beverly, Stan, and Ben heard footsteps. They swiveled around to see a group of seven thirteen-year-olds traipsing out of the woods. They were talking excitedly about some kind of video game, but stopped short as they spotted the seven bedraggled adults.

“Hey,” Bill said a bit too casually. “Do any of you kids have a cell phone?”

“Yeah, we're kinda...in a bit of a pickle,” Beverly chimed in.

Stanley just lifted his hand in a lazy wave, head still oozing blood.

The kids' mouths fell open, and Ben had to rush forward to make sure they didn't run away scared.

Ben and Bill spoke with the seven young teenagers, hoping to keep them a safe distance away from Richie so they wouldn't have to see the gore that littered his body and face. Mike gratefully borrowed one of their cell phones and called 9-1-1. Beverly sat against the fallen tree with Stanley, trying her best to tend to his head wound.

Eddie stayed with Richie.

Richie's breathing had finally calmed to a steady rasping, and he had yet to say a word.

Eddie's body was aching horribly. The stab wound on his face was absolutely throbbing. His head felt fuzzy and disoriented, and his eyelids were impossibly heavy. But none of that mattered. None of it mattered because Richie was alive. He _was alive._

_They all were._

“E-Edds...” Richie croaked horribly.

Eddie smiled and chuckled breathlessly, “Yeah. Yeah, it’s me, dickhead.”

Richie’s damaged eyelids twitched “closed,” although they weren’t able to close properly over his eyeballs due to the severity of the damage. It took Eddie a couple of moments to realize that he was trying to close his eyes.

While Richie couldn't see the sun, Eddie hoped he could feel it through the pain and disorientation.

“It’s okay, Rich,” Eddie whispered, unconsciousness finally starting to pull him under. “We made it. We're okay. We're..."

Eddie's words faded as he passed out, collapsing on the ground right next to Richie.

A few seconds later, a moss-covered turtle emerged from the water and made its way slowly up the bank. It stopped beside Richie and Eddie's unconscious forms.

Its head stretched further out of its shell as the sound of wailing sirens could be heard in the distance.

Its crisp, amethyst eyes sparkled in the sunlight.

_It's okay._

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for descriptions of drowning  
> TW for death acceptance  
> TW for what could be considered suicide/group suicide  
> TW for talk of death  
> TW for puking
> 
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